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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571536">the lengths we go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartattacked/pseuds/heartattacked'>heartattacked</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:34:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartattacked/pseuds/heartattacked</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>like going home: it may be messy and empty at times, but eventually someone will return, and eventually cacophony of reunion will cry out. that’s what this is. returning home. that’s nostalgia, akashi knows.</p>
</blockquote>for when the phone calls aren't enough, and you have to be near someone.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akashi Seijuurou/Nijimura Shuuzou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the lengths we go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>akashi's grand youth looks something like clouds lit up orange during golden hour, hard pressed against blue sky. there is something aglow in the way youth runs wild in tokyo, unabashedly unaware of looming adulthood on the horizon, only seeing what is right in front of it, winter fading away as spring peeks through the curtains, cherry blossoms budding and daylight stretched into evening longer each day.</p>
<p>akashi watches all of this out his bedroom window, the right side window of his driver's car, and even still, the windows of kyoto's most elite high school, where his father lets him play basketball.</p>
<p>(his father is hard and unyielding, but so is seijuurou. there is no recipe for a good father.)</p>
<p>now, down the stairs and to the left, akashi finds his father sitting casually in slacks and a dress shirt, clean-cut and pressed smooth, one hand habitually rubbing his chin and the other stilled at the mouse pad on his laptop on the kitchen island.</p>
<p>akashi quite nearly walks out the room, but his father mutters a simple<em> good morning</em> without even looking up. no escaping.</p>
<p>"you don't usually eat here," says akashi with the implication that his father is not usually<em> here </em>at all, spending most nights in the loft in ginza that is unarguably closer to the company’s hq. but it's nearly new years, akashi forgets, and business is slow this time of year.</p>
<p>“no, i haven't eaten,” and then, with a quick glance of narrow eyes, “you’re not dressed.”</p>
<p>akashi attempts moving past him and to the refrigerator.</p>
<p>“no one needs to be dressed for breakfast.”</p>
<p>“it’s about—”</p>
<p>“principle?” akashi finishes lazily, shuffling through heavily stocked drawers for edible food. on most mornings, mari would have breakfast ready for him before he even wakes, but when his father is around he has an annoying tendency to dismiss the house workers and do things himself. if there's one thing akashi would never admit to, it's that he is a horrendous cook.</p>
<p>he crafts two portions of extremely makeup japanese cuisine, thankful that his father had at least been sensible to start rice.</p>
<p>“—not being lazy. i can’t wholly blame you; sending you off to a dormitory full of teenagers was a poorly thought out decision on my part.”</p>
<p>akashi finds himself rolling his eyes, shaking his head after as to shake off the ridiculous notion that his father could amuse him.</p>
<p>“have you considered i am also a teenager?”</p>
<p>akashi sets out the rice in clay bowls, painted with overlapping tiles of blue and green, followed by miso soup, tomatoes, and tofu. these bowls have been in cycle since akashi was born, he knows from the photos, and somehow over the years they had never cracked. his father finally pays mind what he's doing.</p>
<p>“it’s always tofu with you, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“i don't like meat.”</p>
<p>“neither did your mother. i’m starting to think you take after her more than i.” he says this lightly, yet it burns the air between them audibly.</p>
<p>“is that such a bad thing?”</p>
<p>masaomi types away dutifully, surprising akashi by responding, resigned, “it’s probably a better thing.”</p>
<p>the tofu is good. the rice is good. neither are extraordinary by any means, but akashi sits across from his blissfully ignorant father and appreciates any distraction from the all too familiar sound of replying to emails.</p>
<p>“you seem to scorn her often recently.”</p>
<p>masaomi spares him a glinting glance. “call it jealousy. you haven’t taken to the business like i thought you would. since you’re my only heir, i have a reasonable level of concern.”</p>
<p>“i have seen lots of women here lately. you could make another."</p>
<p>“you <em>have</em> gotten too coy at that school.”</p>
<p>“i realized, at that school,” and akashi does, in this moment, try to remember where the garden tools are in this house so he can dig his grave— “that good image is nothing if not realistic. people aspire to those who are just as human as they are. envy and pride are sins, father, not virtues.”</p>
<p>his father chuckles, closes the screen of his computer with a snap, and reaches for chopsticks.</p>
<p>“maybe you do take after me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the scene is a rather small, rather timid, akashi peering through the doors of his summer home. this place is also called his childhood home, and the grand akashi estate, all in one. it sits unimposing up a hill on the outskirts of tokyo, all dressed in white oak wood and madonna lilies.</p>
<p>this house is separate from the rest of the estate, and if you went back a few years, peered curiously through the windows, you might see a young woman with sun red hair up in braids, tuning her violin to play dvorak, or brushing back a small boy’s hair in the morning light, waiting for their driver to come take him to school; maybe cutting vegetables dutifully in the kitchen for soup, or fingers fanning through a drawer for a dress of the lightest and softest colors.</p>
<p>his mother, trusted and dandelion colored; her soundtrack is bees humming nocturne in e-flat major. his mother, left behind in the clouds of victory.</p>
<p>but tonight, akashi ventures upstairs in an empty home, the only light from a half moon shining through windows, casting expensive shadows over everything. his room is the first on the left up the stairs, but before that is a parlor loft that overlooks the rest of the house. a bookshelf filled with english classics and japanese tomes sits against the wall, and a marble chess table that he and his father used to play at frequently. his mother would sit on the floor and make bets, but his father won ten times out of ten. shiori would still bet on seijuurou each time.</p>
<p>below this room, in the stairs, they put away all her things. canvas paintings, old papers, boxes of her lily stained dresses, and a stradivarius violin that masaomi had gifted her, her initials engraved in the upper bow. they all sit growing gray with time.</p>
<p>akashi was meant to stay in the hotel with the rest of his team, but something told him to just go home. tomorrow would have been the start of their winter break regardless, so akashi just…went home. he called his driver (who had been working with his father for nearly a decade, taking akashi wherever his whims allowed), and watched sunday night tokyo give way to his place of belonging.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>christmas day becomes a new, happy memory, bringing him back to the times he had forgotten to miss.</p>
<p>they celebrate the winter cup and akashi’s birthday, two things that ring so loudly in his ears that he can barely hear their chatter over the table.</p>
<p>akashi had been timid to agree, but after an overwhelming series of messages from kise and momoi blabbering in a language he couldn’t understand, he decides that even if he feels inferior in this immediate moment, he does not feel unwelcome. this a room of broken relationships. of people who were cut apart as the paper airplane of their friendship crashed and burned; they are picking pieces from the ashes, trying to see if any corners match. it will never be the same, but some parts can be salvaged.</p>
<p>like going home: it may be messy and empty at times, but eventually someone will return, and eventually cacophony of reunion will cry out. that’s what this is. returning home. that’s nostalgia, akashi knows.</p>
<p>there is something to be said about the nature of nostalgia, and the way it imprints itself wherever it likes. it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. no, when nostalgia appears, it grips your heart like a wrench, rotating its axle, until you feel it disrupt the flow of blood from the pulmonary valve to the aorta, entirely cutting off the present from the past, until you belong to that chasm of sadness infinity.</p>
<p>akashi knows all about this theme in stories of youth and sunlight, where friendship bleeds strong and wildness runs loose in the streets of tokyo, and where he would instead sit at home, trying not to look at his mother’s photo over the fireplace.</p>
<p>the ramen shop they meet at screams homespun and health-threatening. akashi only helps himself to sugar peas and honey tea as the rest of them devour noodles as though it was their last meal. they all realize this is how it should be, laughter without the heavy stench of victory under their throats. he dons a soft smile the entire evening.</p>
<p>kagami is there, between kuroko and aomine, which is new but not an intrusion. momoi ponders closer to aomine, chin in her hands, watching him with gooey eyes. there is also something new there, in that small space.</p>
<p>through the three years of their friendship, nobody says a word. when he excuses himself from dinner, when he steps off the court, when he seizes being an emperor and begins being a friend. everyone notices, and no one asks. at this particular meal, momoi changes the subject as soon as she can. kise smiles and taps his fingers happily on his soda. aomine uses the distraction to steal kagami’s fries. they all sort of know and pretend not to. except kagami, who doesn’t even know who nijimura is and doesn’t care that akashi goes red as soon as the former captain is brought up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the phone calls come through. akashi solaces in the distraction of nijimura’s two-toned, uncouth complaints about hospital staff and american fast food and nitpick-y half-japanese girls who only wanted to date him for bragging rights.</p>
<p>it’s a strange thing how, for some time now, nijimura continues to shadow akashi’s peripherals. the occasional text and phone call litter akashi’s weekends like sparse raindrops on an overcast day. nijimura may have had some idea of the events of the years proceeding this one, of the generation of miracles’ utter dominance on the field during that last year of middle school, of how they parted ways and of how akashi may have completely jumped ship into cold waters. either way, nijimura continued to call, continued to send photos and video calls with his sister, not just to akashi, but to all of them.</p>
<p>akashi did let the gold slip off his tongue once that previous summer, not by accident, but with no thought to how it would come across; he says, “<em>shuuzou</em>,” in the honey tone that made him so unapproachable to everybody else, and then they didn't talk for a few months.</p>
<p>but january rolls in, and akashi is one year older and gingerly re-accustoming to life as his mother’s son. he sits on the corner of his bed in this childhood home with an alarmingly fast heartbeat and dials in nijimura’s phone number with the united states extension code, thumb hovering over the call button.</p>
<p>moments later, the line connects—</p>
<p>to a cacophony of yelling children, the slamming of a door, and general racket that would be impossible to place regardless of who was listening.</p>
<p>and then, “<em>akashi</em>?” the familiar dulcet voice with all the roughness of an out of tune cello, out of breath and frantic.</p>
<p>“nijimura-san—”</p>
<p>“<em>hey, sorry, trying to get the kids to school. i’ll call you back. is it late?” </em></p>
<p>“no, it’s—” akashi, taken aback, glances at the time. it’s one thirty in the morning. “early.”</p>
<p>“okay<em>cooltalklater?” </em></p>
<p>and then akashi is left at the dial tone.</p>
<p>but, thankfully, the phone calls come through.</p>
<p>there is a level of awkwardness to surpass before things get easy. things being: the conversations to follow, the flowery feeling in akashi’s chest, the brush of red paint on his cheeks as nijimura laughs like there’s nothing wrong in the world (because even though akashi can’t see him, he visualizes the scene and can’t bring himself to call it what it is), the way they play off each other’s banter, the way their nights and mornings fit together like tetris pieces. when akashi sees the moon, nijimura sees the sun, and then give it twelve hours. nijimura becomes part of akashi’s routine. while akashi is not exactly unpopular, he doesn’t care for his team’s unruly chatrooms and social affairs, but nijimura is something old and blue, and akashi has been called red, once or twice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi hears symphony for strings whispering over the top of his house as he steps out of the car. he spends most of his winter break alone in ginza, doing what most other rich kids do: shop. he isn’t exactly proud of it but balenciaga serves as a nice distraction from doing his father’s biddings. the music, one of akashi’s favorite pieces, grows in time as he approaches and steps through the door. through the window on the other side of the living room, peering outside, akashi sees his father at the deck, faced by a woman dressed in black. laptops and papers spread over the patio table but the candles are lit and the music plays regardless.</p>
<p>akashi ignores this and goes up to his room, where he can shower, basking in thoughts of emptiness.</p>
<p>later that week, akashi helps his father sort applications at his office, the aforementioned penthouse in ginza. akashi knows his right from his left and knows a bad or even just average application when he sees it; his father trusts him.</p>
<p>“who was that woman?” akashi asks briskly, over desk, as if he hadn’t been rolling the question around in his mouth for days.</p>
<p>his father’s pause tells him enough, but his answer, “she was just a woman,” tells him the rest.</p>
<p>“alright.” akashi is both a disappointed at the development and disgusted, a little. “why?” he can’t stop himself from asking.</p>
<p>masaomi sets his tea down loudly.</p>
<p>clattering glass.</p>
<p>akashi continues filling in forms, scratch of led the loudest thing in the room.</p>
<p>this is a silent conversation.</p>
<p>
  <em>know your place.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>as your heir or son?</em>
</p>
<p>a sigh. “you’ve become quite forward.”</p>
<p>“because i’ve gained some common sense.”</p>
<p>“i always thought you were quite sensible. speaking presumingly doesn’t seem sensible.”</p>
<p>there is always roughness in his father’s voice that mimics that of a <em>father</em>. it is distant yet meaningful, like he knows akashi will come to his own conclusions himself no matter what he is lectured. akashi wishes he would; he wishes his father would be brave enough to stand in front of him and lay out the laws of their kingdom. if akashi was prone to speaking out then his father was passive in his teachings.</p>
<p>so, masaomi doesn’t lecture him now.</p>
<p>“i’m not going to remarry, seijuurou. this is getting out of hand.”</p>
<p>akashi glances up, fingers loosening around a tightly held pen. he hadn’t known his lungs were clenched but he breathes in deep, oxygen filling the crevices.</p>
<p>and for the coming weeks, through january and febuary, a small semblance of normalcy returns to akashi’s routine. he and everyone else returns to school, returns to exams and sleet rain on the weekends, winter finally picking up speed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>nijimura tiptoes around it sometimes. he wants to see akashi in person. akashi would hum, and maybe follow with quietness, and then talk about his school life. talk about hayama kotarou’s inability to keep his fingers on his hand for more than five minutes, talk about the five percent of akashi inc. currently to his name, about the twenty five percent that would be his after high school, knowing that nijimura is still thinking about seeing him eye to eye. akashi has never been good at viewing others on equal footing.</p>
<p>“hey, you good?”</p>
<p>akashi finds himself pulling his nails from his lips. that’s odd, he thinks, not recognizing the habit as of one his own. tonight nijimura has been particularly standoffish. underlying the two tones is a third, slightly timid one. it doesn’t suit him.</p>
<p>“i’m doing okay, senpai.”</p>
<p>nijimura’s usually hearty laugh comes through as just translucent, filtered white noise, and then he clears his throat, static on the line. immediately, akashi recognizes the static as a first breath, the build of a rising crescendo.</p>
<p>nothing comes out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>but the news is not sudden. when it comes, that is.</p>
<p>akashi probably felt it out around their more lazy conversations and longer periods of silence between messages. but he ignored it on pretense of the reason he ignores everyone else being timid around him.</p>
<p>fortunately, nijimura had not grown suddenly wary of akashi’s friendship but, in fact, was just busy.</p>
<p>with the news.</p>
<p>cancer free, is what nijimura tells him over the phone on an unusually warm day at the end of january.</p>
<p>unwilling images of akashi’s mother laying listless and white in a bed of satin shudder through him, and he nearly drops the phone. he’d been revising his chemistry notes when nijimura called. the language on the paper is foreign to him now.</p>
<p>“that’s wonderful news, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>“the doctors have been giving us good signs the last few months but...i mean, it's been three years. of waiting and waiting. it doesn't feel real at all.”</p>
<p>“please give your father my congratulations.”</p>
<p>“yeah,” nijimura sounds totally breathless over the line. “i will. thanks. it’s all happening really fast. my dad’s been at the apartment for a few weeks now but they’re already talking about packing.”</p>
<p>“packing?”</p>
<p>“my parents wanted me to finish high school in japan. i thought it would be too much on them but they’re insisting. the kids miss japan too. so i guess, yeah. i don't know. it's impossible that everything will go back to the way it was, but i'm so happy right now."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i can’t wait to see you,” nijimura says one morning, a few days after. nijimura had called to tell akashi that even though entrance exams had already ended, a few schools were willing to take his application if he contributed to the basketball team. teiko’s reputation proceeds itself.</p>
<p>a pause, long enough to disperse some of his excitement, like water dripping achingly slow through a coffee filter.</p>
<p>“i mean, you know, everyone. not that i don’t still talk to most of you, but, you know.”</p>
<p>“i know,” akashi finally says, if only to soothe nijimura’s recovery. “i know you aren’t one to complain, but anyone would want to come back to their life before everything changed like it did for you.”</p>
<p>nijimura takes a soothing breath. “yeah.”</p>
<p>“that’s nostalgia.” akashi says, fiddling with the threads of his rakuzan practice shirt, unraveling with use. he’d have to order another. “it won’t be the same.”</p>
<p>“sure,” nijimura agrees, “but that’s fine.”</p>
<p>“do you think you can still write kanji?”</p>
<p>nijimura chokes.</p>
<p>all the while, with some trembling fingers later, the mantra plays, the orchestra grows louder, the hissing and squirming continues to ring under him like a quiet earthquake, “this is not the safest place, don't find yourself here, my lungs are full of poison. trust me, there is plenty of proof.”</p>
<p>you think you're going to graze on those thoughts all night, chewing the fat on the meat of your introspection. you don’t even eat meat; you stopped eating meat because you don’t have to. but meat is meat, and these thoughts about nijimura soak into your blood like iron: essential, but heavy. you think of nijimura and his hand on the crown of your head; the weight lessons, and you sleep. this is coping. you cope by imagining him brushing back your bangs softly, looking down at you, and the sudden kindle of a flick to your forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>does anyone believe in god? </em> aomine types in the group chat.</p>
<p>kuroko says, <em> god is probably not definitively real. </em></p>
<p>midorima says, <em> of course, you fool. </em></p>
<p>and nijimura responds with <em>hehehehe. </em></p>
<p>aomine types, some hours later, <em> i’m going to die. if i die, frame akashi. </em></p>
<p>
  <em> why is this my fault? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> everything is always your fault. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“nijimura shuuzou?” himuro’s voice cuts through the static. “yes, we attended the same high school in los angeles.”</p>
<p>kagami whistles. “small world.”</p>
<p>“he’s a pretty good guy. we played street ball together sometimes. he was usually too busy but he’s a total wrecker on the court. you should look up some of his plays in teiko. if he hadn’t gone to america he would've been some uncrowned kings-generation of miracles hybrid.”</p>
<p>kagami blanks. “<em>what</em>, that’s too scary. i don’t wanna meet him.”</p>
<p>himura laughs bright. “nah, he’s<em> actually </em>a good guy. no tricks. for how hard it is to find a person who’s not an asshole these days, he’s one of the good ones.”</p>
<p>“no magic powers?”</p>
<p>“none that i know of, just a fucking strong power forward.”</p>
<p>“i can’t believe two hundred people rsvp’d. i don’t even<em> know</em> that many people.”</p>
<p>“right? it’s nuts but everyone’s sorta whipped for the guy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>febuary passes and nijimura returns to japan. the conversation is uneventful between them but apparently the tokyo high schools are raging. nijimura was, in fact, popular. captain of the best basketball middle school team in japan, attractive and outgoing, and praised for his skill but approachable. a redeemed rebel with humble beginnings. akashi receives an invitation for street ball, a welcome home party of sorts, and no matter how long he scrolls the rsvp list, he could not reach the end. teiko alumni, long time acquaintances, people who have heard the praise, curious and interested in free barbecue. akashi thinks he won’t go, but he has no need to religiously cast himself into his studies and nijimura asks him personally.</p>
<p>“i didn’t plan this, by the way. kise did. so many freaking people have messaged me about it…”</p>
<p>akashi closes the door to his dorm with his foot, sets his gym down on the bed and drops his school one on the floor and takes the pencil he was using to jot down some sudden thoughts in the courtyard out of his mouth and tosses it on his desk (it rolls off violently), and suddenly akashi has free hands snatch his phone from a dangerous balancing game between his neck, shoulder, and cheek.</p>
<p>“i thought kise was more dependable than this. as if the police won’t crowd control. you and i both know tokyo streetball courts are the size of aomine’s brain capacity for academics.”</p>
<p>“are you going? i wouldn’t usually get nervous over this but on top of everything going on right now, i might throw up.”</p>
<p>“don’t be gross. i coach our weekend training.”</p>
<p>“kise said there’s going to be a keg stand with pocari sweat. someone’s going to end up in the hospital if you’re not there.”</p>
<p>“electrolytes are essential for homeostasis.”</p>
<p>“<em>c’mon</em>. akashi-sama. please?”</p>
<p>the voice is back, but it says something different.</p>
<p>you haven’t seen those people since the winter cup and some of them haven’t ever even known the so-called <em>real</em> you. how imposing it would be to walk in like a wanted guest. to stand by nijimura when he doesn’t know why nobody wants you there.</p>
<p>maybe he knows, maybe he hasn’t said anything, but akashi would like to believe his image remains innocent for the absentees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“look, i know you don’t give two shits about the trouble your ex-boyfriends get into—”</p>
<p>akashi flushes, flipping through random manga pages, mentally making a note to lecture chihiro for his lack of intelligent reading. “they are not.”</p>
<p>“come on. you make kissy faces at, like, half of them.”</p>
<p>“i have no idea what you’re talking about—”</p>
<p>“either way, it’s totally not why you’re skipping practice.”</p>
<p>“nijimura was our captain. it’s a matter of respect.”</p>
<p>“then respectfully let me go? pay my respects? this city sucks. there’s nothing to do.”</p>
<p>“pay your respects at a temple. you didn’t know him, you’re not going.”</p>
<p>“because you want to…” chihiro raises one eyebrow; akashi stares at him through the kyoto library bookshelf. “...make kissy faces at—“</p>
<p>“i’m going back to school now. you can come with me only because i agreed to watch your anime but feel free to fall into the subway tracks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>no matter how sophisticated and perfectly well adjusted akashi might come across, he has his moments as anyone else does. he might turn the heat on in july and lay on the kitchen tiles until he swelters and becomes thoughtless; he might attempt to cook and slice his fingers near off; he might glare at his father when they sit in his office, discussing events akashi has no choice but to attend and present the best of himself; he might eat meat and feel nauseous.</p>
<p>these moods come and go with the loud and quiet moments of his life. in the loudest moments, he needs the absurd, abstract ways he copes. in the quiet moments, the best thing he can do is to be quiet himself.</p>
<p>this day is split into two evenly silent and cacophonous slices.</p>
<p>tokyo’s love of low flying and tumultuous thunder clouds cages the city in high humidity. for mid-march, an unusual heat boils on the streets, keeping taxi horns and passing voices on an underwater mute. this is how akashi’s car ride begins in the early afternoon, but by the time he steps foot out of the car the clouds have parted just enough to let the sun cast obnoxiously yellow light onto the sidewalk.</p>
<p>kuroko was already ahead of him, leaving akashi reeling after their conversation in the backseat of his driver’s bmw.</p>
<p>they had barely been speaking. akashi had asked him to meet at a tea shop beforehand and they were both feeling the pacifying effects of matcha, but akashi notices the indiscreet ribboned box peering from kuroko’s bag.</p>
<p>kuroko follows his eyes and says, “ah, a gift for nijimura-senpai’s family.”</p>
<p>akashi would like to think he kept his composure quite nicely.</p>
<p>“akashi-kun…are you alright?”</p>
<p>slow panic rises in kuroko, akashi staring at the wrapped box and kuroko halting his breaths as though it would stop akashi from erupting.</p>
<p>“you didn’t have to buy anything,” he stammers. “i’m sure he’ll be happy with your presence alone, akashi-kun.”</p>
<p>and then suddenly the stench of meat is in his nose, all too bright sun on his bare arms, turning his nerves on high heat. voices pour out through the chain linked fence boxing in two high hoops and a field of concrete. an empty court gives way to a park behind, bodies flooded between sparse trees and benches, some familiar and some strange. akashi recognizes the upperclassmen from teiko but not the younger ones, surprised that so many people actually showed up.</p>
<p>a superfluous number of eyes float to him. they’re stupid for not having more discretion in their gossipy manners, but his gut still clenches tight. he knows he’s made a bit of a celebrity out of himself; he watched the footage back of the winter cup finals as much as anyone else did, he isn’t foolish enough to think it wouldn’t garter unwanted stares, but at the end of it all, it’s truly nobody else’s business what breakdowns or breakthroughs he is capable of having. when he drops the ball, not knowing where to pass, it is between him and the people he’s passing to, not the bystanders. this includes nijimura, who was not present during this time, not in person, and not in akashi’s call history.</p>
<p>now, this is a slightly intimate setting. the metaphor might not come across to the others here, but basketball has made him as much as he made it; basketball is the simple and daily opera of his life, but this scene ahead stirs up an unsettling amount of <em>jamais vu</em>. a routine and comforting place turned stranger and distraction-filled.</p>
<p>as he moves himself onto the court, his vision settles unexpectedly on the group a little bit away, cast in a spot of sunlight under a leafless tree. a million stars seem to burst at once. kise’s blonde, golden eyed face sparkling like always, aomine and midorima throwing bitter looks at each other, kagami taiga and himuro tatsuya loitering, engaged in a three-way conversation (obviously about america, the only thing they have in common) with shuuzou.</p>
<p>akashi wants to laugh, but it’s not funny at all.</p>
<p>he can’t even be embarrassed to think it. it isn’t like he hasn’t seen photos, but photos never compare. two years have transformed nijimura from the impulsive, pouting, hot-headed middle school kid to a taller, somehow classier version of himself. not that nijimura isn’t still hotheaded, but his shoulders are broader, limbs longer, angles of his face sharpened. the way he settles his weight, leaning back, head tilted up, grinning into the air, is beautiful.</p>
<p>akashi feels too expensive all the sudden. he may sit with the finer things of life but he forgot his mission to not stand out so much.</p>
<p>nijimura’s fine-lined eyes, california-sun-kissed skin, armbands hugging his wrists, carry a bewitching energy that beacons to akashi. nijimura’s energy was always like this, but seeing him again ticks some box he hadn’t realized was left unchecked. akashi kicks himself for being so taken but he really has no control over the matter. this is something he can blame on the universe.</p>
<p>“english is a dumb language anyway—”</p>
<p>“aomine-kun, you may either stop complaining or run three laps around this block.”</p>
<p>aomine sputters, jumping a foot back and turning around, to his truest form of terror. “what the <em>hell</em>—i wasn’t even saying anything bad about you—not that i ever would—”</p>
<p>“your mind is as transparent as your mouth is. ah, hello, nijimura-san. it is nice to see you.”</p>
<p>“akashi!” nijimura laughs, and akashi loses himself in the vagueness of seeing someone up close that he hadn’t seen in so long. it’s strange but wonderful, like rereading a favorite book, reminding yourself why it’s your favorite.</p>
<p>nijimura’s lips up close are a pandora’s box that release an absurd amount of flashbacks to akashi’s staring at him as he chatted aimlessly outside a convenience store. akashi was never really listening to the chatter but remained enamored by someone so unafraid of his judgement, someone who could lose themselves in the small details or annoyances of day to day life. his mouth would move and akashi would watch, wondering when nijimura might realize akashi wasn’t listening.</p>
<p>akashi bows slightly to the others in the group, and the cacophony of this moment returns to him.</p>
<p>“woah, akashi, i bet you know english,” kagami says as a greeting.</p>
<p>akashi squints. “i do <em>know</em> english, but maybe you should work on your japanese.”</p>
<p>himuro slaps kagami on the back. “<em>see</em>, if you won’t listen to me, listen to him.”</p>
<p>“it’s true, akashicchi gives good advice.”</p>
<p>“akashi, we were waiting for you to start,” says midorima, butting in. out of the corner of his eye, akashi sees kuroko smile, knowing.</p>
<p>midorima dons a yellow hair band around his wrist, and so does nijimura. akashi can infer.</p>
<p>“midorimacchi always pretends to be annoyed at us but secretly enjoys our conversations, right?”</p>
<p>“<em>shut up</em>.”</p>
<p>“midorima-kun is quite stingy,” kuroko agrees.</p>
<p>“aquarius is <em>last </em>today, kuroko.”</p>
<p>“who is first?”</p>
<p>“cancer.”</p>
<p>“<em>oh</em>, you and me both, midorima,” nijimura pipes in.</p>
<p>“y’all are fuckin’ crazy, we gonna play ball or what?” says kagami.</p>
<p>“you were waiting for me?” asks akashi, at the same time as nijimura lifts his hand to the crown of akashi’s head, ruffling his hair in a dizzying flash.</p>
<p>akashi turns to him, flushed (it’s the humidity).</p>
<p>“we’re going to do captain verses captain,” nijimura explains.</p>
<p>“ah.” akashi would like to disappear. “i see.”</p>
<p>“for the sake of old times.”</p>
<p>“right.”</p>
<p>“okay.” nijimura calls out. “let’s pick teams!”</p>
<p>nijimura throws his arm over aomine’s shoulders, tugging him closer. aomine yelps again, cheeks going red. “i’ll go first. aomine, you’re on my team. this is a good opportunity for you to start calling me senpai again, brat.”</p>
<p>“im never calling you—”</p>
<p>nijimura’s heel digs into his toes.</p>
<p>“<em>senpai</em>.”</p>
<p>“akashi, your turn.”</p>
<p>soon the crowd clusters. the court only holds ten players at a time so they decide on victory to the first ten points. nijimura says to him, “i haven’t played seriously in a long time, go easy on me,” before they start and akashi simply does not know how to respond.</p>
<p>but akashi doesn’t really do much, and this turns into a game of passing the ball to his teammates and standing back to observe the commotion. the muted cheers when someone dunks flashily, the scratch of shoes on rough payment, the sound of the ball hitting the metal fence, the rattling sound rattling through akashi’s chest as sweat starts to bead on his neck. akashi doesn’t usually sweat much but the sun is beginning to pound down. one would think it is already summer.</p>
<p>after a few rounds of member switches, akashi sits out and watches nijimura at the center, like he always is. people like aomine and kagami don’t know how to not spew energy onto the court; they’re human lightening strikes. but nijimura is the low, drawn out rumble of thunder long before rain pours. nijimura may not have played recently but akashi can tell from observing for just a few minutes that his natural gifts still live in his fingers and reflexes. he makes plays with aggressive ease that puts the rest of their rumbustious limelight to shame. he and aomine, they actually play nicely together, despite being two power forwards. akashi wonders what the summer interhigh will look like this year.</p>
<p>for some hours, noise eats away the nostalgic undertones of akashi’s conscious. he lets himself get devoured by the light and sweat of running hard, and feeling of contentment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi’s phone rings, cutting through their ridiculous chatter like a box knife. very few people call akashi on his personal phone.</p>
<p><em>“ooh,</em>” kise quips. “this is going to be good.”</p>
<p>akashi rolls his eyes, putting the phone on speaker.</p>
<p>“i told you not to call unless it was life or death—”</p>
<p>“<em>sei-chan! i tried to stop them but they are s.t.u.p.i.d.!”</em></p>
<p>akashi stares at his phone as though it’s a foreign object.</p>
<p>screaming ensues.</p>
<p>
  <em>“they nearly sawed his fingers right off—”</em>
</p>
<p>akashi takes speaker phone off, pressing the phone to his ear.</p>
<p>“mibuchi-kun, if hayama’s fingers are not sewn perfectly back on by monday i will do you the honor of removing them entirely.”</p>
<p>“<em>yes sir!”</em></p>
<p>when akashi hangs up, an array of eyes stares at him.</p>
<p>“woah,” kagami says, eyes lit up. “<em>lucky</em>!”</p>
<p>“kagami-kun, your team is going to lose the interhigh regardless.”</p>
<p>“duh,” aomine says. “and we don’t even need all our fingers to beat you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>a hand around his arm.</p>
<p>“hey, you wanna walk together—?”</p>
<p>nijimura’s fingers feel weightless around his upper arm. he stands above akashi on the sidewalk, grinning expectantly with those cool-toned eyes and hair swept back with the breeze, a leftover flush in his cheeks. it’s true, if the world was a highlighter, nijimura would stand out in bright blue next to dull letters in black.</p>
<p>akashi nods, barely, and as nijimura tugs him down the steps, casts his eyes to his driver discreetly. takashida-san nods, holding up his phone.</p>
<p>"—sei-chan," nijimura teases.</p>
<p>akashi makes an unsightly noise in the back of his throat, turning red.</p>
<p>"it is just...a nickname. i never approved."</p>
<p>"'s cute. that was mibuchi reo, right? the uncrowned generals or whatever."</p>
<p>akashi nods.</p>
<p>nijimura whistles, “what a boat i missed.”</p>
<p>“hmm,” akashi inquires. “you assume you would have been classified as one of the top five players from your grade in japan?”</p>
<p>nijimura grins at him. “i used to be pretty good.”</p>
<p>“aggression and skill are not the same, just ask aomine. what station are you going to?” akashi asks, relieved as nijimura lets go of his arm. the skin on skin had been starting to burn.</p>
<p>“i live nearby. or,” nijimura corrects himself. “i’m staying there. my aunts lives there.”</p>
<p>“your aunt? what about your parents?”</p>
<p>“they didn’t want to move back to the city yet. got a house in miyagi for now. it would be perfect if it wasn’t so far away,” nijimura says, wistful, staring up.</p>
<p>“the air is much healthier in miyagi. are they in sendai?”</p>
<p>“nah, the countryside.”</p>
<p>“well, it’s good for healing.”</p>
<p>these paper clouds floating by remind akashi of healing. hot clouds of distinct white smoke floating up, and the emptiness that remains after. the slap on his hand telling him to pay attention. all he wants to do is nod off.</p>
<p>but nijimura walks so close, sleeves brushing, head hanging low to speak to him, and it’s warm and makes akashi feel like he’s sleeping already.</p>
<p>“i wanted to talk to you more.” nijimura breathes the words almost, and they spin like animated katakana around akashi’s heard. “everything is going by so fast.”</p>
<p>nijimura chuckles, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“you warned me. that things wouldn’t be the same. we’re all changing all the time. just from leaving los angeles, moving back to tokyo without my family, and figuring out stuff for school. it’s like the opposite of nostalgia. but that’s why i wanted to talk to you.”</p>
<p>“why did you want to?”</p>
<p>“hmm.” nijimura wonders at the sky. “i don’t know. we talked for hours sometimes, over the phone. i guess time seems to slow down with you.”</p>
<p>“that’s impossible, nijimura-san. besides, now that it is different does not mean it is worse. i think…i think things here have changed for the better, lately.”</p>
<p>nijimura looks at him with a curious fondness.</p>
<p>“is that so?”</p>
<p>nijimura’s aunt’s apartment is inside a burnt orange complex, one story tall but nijimura assures him it’s spacious. they say goodnight and akashi watches him disappear up the steps, and then inside, and then he calls his driver to find him at the corner.</p>
<p>the clouds open up.</p>
<p>but it all goes downhill, and akashi will be the first to attest.</p>
<p>sunday afternoon, akashi preparing to step onto the shinkansen back to kyoto, he receives a text asking to get dinner.</p>
<p>akashi thinks nothing more of it other than nijimura treating him as a friend would; akashi quickly realizes that yes, nijimura views him as a close friend. they got along all of middle school and talked with ease after, and now nijimura has no issues with seeing him twice in a weekend. akashi doesn’t really have anyone else like that, who directly asks to spend time with him. kuroko might, chihiro does but only because akashi inquires first, and any other time he’s in a group with a team that can’t be complete or kept under control without him.</p>
<p>so nijimura asking to spend time together is quite refreshing if not a little nerve inducing.</p>
<p>akashi drops his backpack in a locker at tokyo station, buys a new train ticket, and meets nijimura in ginza at his own request. akashi likes to spend as little time in west tokyo as possible. the crowds dressed in neon and streets scent-stained with meat and unruliness isn’t digestible to him.</p>
<p>no matter how humbled he may have found himself after the winter cup, he will always know he is porcelain to the rest of the world’s plexiglass.</p>
<p>“isn’t this too much?” asks a weary nijimura, sitting face to face with a table of japanese cuisine.</p>
<p>“if you want to eat with me,” akashi replies, frolicsome. “you will be eating holistic.”</p>
<p>nijimura sighs, mourning. “you’re a hazard to my bank account, akashi.”</p>
<p>“do you have a bank account?”</p>
<p>“oh, fuck off. i’m not that broke.”</p>
<p>akashi smiles.</p>
<p>“well, it’s on me. don’t worry.”</p>
<p>“honestly, i thought we’d just go to a convenience store.”</p>
<p>“what kind of date would that be?”</p>
<p>nijimura drops his chopsticks.</p>
<p>“i mean. i meant.” akashi lights up. “not a date, i didn’t mean it like that.”</p>
<p>akashi’s nose wrinkles, trying to push past this moment. <em>that was extremely inconsiderate of you</em>, he thinks, and <em>you are a disaster,</em> is what he gets in return. he unwraps the perilla pocket in front of him, a cloud of steam escaping, letting way to rice and seeds.</p>
<p>“you aren’t in middle school anymore. curry buns and doughnuts aren’t your friends.”</p>
<p>nijimura respectfully does not question him.</p>
<p>they end up at a convenience store anyway, much to akashi’s disdain. nijimura runs into the family mart across the street before akashi can protest and comes out with a small bag of items. akashi stares at him with furrowed brows.</p>
<p>“you and everyone other person in japan will develop hypertension in the next ten years and die.”</p>
<p>nijimura grins, reaching into the bag and tossing a pineapple pouch into akashi’s hands.</p>
<p>“dessert.”</p>
<p>“you’re despicable.”</p>
<p>but akashi enjoys the fruit anyway, licking away sticky fingers under the awning of a nearby office building. they walk leisurely toward tokyo station, taking the quiet streets that weave in and out of sunday night traffic. couples and bubbly groups pass by, lingering at ice cream shops and luxury shoe stores.</p>
<p>“what time’s your train?”</p>
<p>“half an hour. nine.”</p>
<p>“sorry for keeping you. i didn’t even think about it when i asked you if you were free.”</p>
<p>“you didn’t have to,” akashi says kindly. “there was plenty of time.”</p>
<p>“still, shoulda asked someone else. it’s so weird you’re not in tokyo anymore. even murasakibara’s gone. thought you guys would go to the same high school, but…things don’t stay the same forever i guess.”</p>
<p>akashi smiles, to the ground.</p>
<p>“how much of that story do you know, senpai?”</p>
<p>nijimura shrugs. “whatever they wrote in basketball monthly. masaya sent me copies every few months. kise kept me in the loop a little, but y’all are crazy antisocial. didn’t get a peep unless i reached out.”</p>
<p>“you did not miss much,” akashi says.</p>
<p>“liar. that’s okay, though. the past is never that important.”</p>
<p>“do you believe that?’</p>
<p>“well, yeah.” nijimura slows. “you can’t give yesterday more power over you than today.”</p>
<p>akahsi nods. “that sounds like something a neanderthal would say.”</p>
<p>nijimura side-eyes him. “don’t forget i’m older than you.”</p>
<p>“i could never, you remind me frequently.”</p>
<p>nijimura bumps his shoulder, playful. akashi stumbles, trying to keep his composure.</p>
<p>“hey, i’m glad we got to hang out though. after yesterday i didn’t really want to see any of those idiots for a while.”</p>
<p>“they are a handful,” he agrees.</p>
<p>nijimura scoffs. “as if you’re not.”</p>
<p>“i am<em> much</em> more subdued than them.”</p>
<p>“<em>you</em> are the most hysterical sixteen year old i’ve ever met. a different breed of crazy.”</p>
<p>akashi frowns.</p>
<p>“am i not your first choice though?”</p>
<p>“of course you are.”</p>
<p><em>ah</em>.</p>
<p>nijimura continues, “didn’t we get along the best? besides, i like seeing you in normal people situations. it’s endearing.”</p>
<p>akashi does not completely understand this because his truths are his truths, and seeing himself from the perspective of others has always unnerved him. to think his truths are untrue to others makes his skin crawl.</p>
<p>nijimura speaks like he’s tipsy, words rolling mindlessly off his tongue as they step idly toward the station, city life passing them by.</p>
<p>akashi bites his lip. “then i’m not a normal person?”</p>
<p>“the farthest thing from a normal person i’ve ever met.”</p>
<p>it’s both a relief to hear and an incredibly isolating statement.</p>
<p>“it’s just how you were raised, i can’t blame you for that. what’s your dad doing these days?”</p>
<p>“he is probably in one of these buildings with one female co-worker or another, taking care of some business or another.”</p>
<p>for a second, nijimura just stares at him.<em> “</em>are you serious?”</p>
<p>“yes, that is what i said.”</p>
<p>the look on nijimura’s face isn’t one of pity or confusion. it actually is more of a realization of sorts. parted lips, softly mulling over some topic in his head.</p>
<p>“akashi, do you have a girlfriend yet?”</p>
<p>akashi halts. “why would you think i have a girlfriend?“</p>
<p>nijimura’s smile is too kind. “just wondering.”</p>
<p>“what does that mean?”</p>
<p>“i mean—” nijimura’s eyes widen, something akin to regret finding its way onto his cheeks. “i mean. well. whatever. you know what i meant.”</p>
<p>this particular backstreet comes to a dead end at the juncture for tokyo station. down the street, bright lights glow, noisily. in front of them is a building under construction, fenced up with chain.</p>
<p>“no, i…” akashi cuts off. he doesn’t know. here is another odd moment that shakes him speechless. he isn’t stupid; if he was, he would be complacent, which he isn’t. which means nijimura is simply not making any sense. akashi is coming to realize where he was once unbreakable, he now wears his fragility on the tip off his tongue, where he has trouble responding to obvious things.</p>
<p>“please, explain what you said.”</p>
<p>nijimura shakes his head, familiar pout coming out to play. “you don’t need <em>me</em> to spell anything out for you. aren’t we on the same page? c’mon, let’s go.”</p>
<p>nijimura reaches out to ruffle akashi’s hair but akashi falters backward, arm coming up to intersect nijimura’s attempts. they bounce off each other.</p>
<p>“i’m waiting,” akashi says plainly.</p>
<p>“you’re going to miss your train.”</p>
<p>“then i’ll catch another. which i can do because i’m very wealthy, nijimura-san. but your coins are running out, aren’t they?”</p>
<p>nijimura stares down indignantly before sighing, an entire statement in itself.</p>
<p>“are you serious? we’re not on the same page? maybe i gave you too much credit then.”</p>
<p>akashi gapes at him.</p>
<p>“<em>what</em> are you mumbling about?”</p>
<p>nijimura slumps back against the fence. streetlight and leftover sunset pillows on them, nijimura slinking to the ground casually. akashi watches him, estranged.</p>
<p>“you know how i am, akashi.”</p>
<p>“loud.”</p>
<p>“i—<em>hey</em>.”</p>
<p>“brazen.”</p>
<p>“that’s…<em>only slightly</em> better.”</p>
<p>“and a little dense?”</p>
<p>“i’m the dense one?”</p>
<p>“then what i am, senpai?”</p>
<p>“not very honest with yourself, apparently. also, none of that polite shit right now. we’ve always been equals. i just want to hear what you have to say.”</p>
<p>akashi exhales, exasperated. his fingers clench and unclench. “have to say about what?”</p>
<p>“i don’t know. you don’t want your dad to know that you wouldn’t want a girlfriend. that’s what i was getting at.”</p>
<p>akashi’s spine feels like it’s going to snap. he knows very few people can stand under streetlight this yellow and not become a washed out version of themselves. he knows he has perfect posture and manipulates his own body to appear taller by leaning on the tips of his toes and holding his chin higher. as of right now, especially if nijimura is sitting on the ground, watching him from below, he looks even more unbreakable. akashi’s language is standing his ground. but from the blood in his fingers to the spiderveins in his eyes, he’s cold, and once again proves that his facade is built on his father’s passiveness.</p>
<p>“nevermind. i get too hotheaded for my own good. you need to get to your platform.”</p>
<p>“i can’t.”</p>
<p>“you’re going to find your platform and i’m going to go home. we’ll have to talk some other time. or not, if you don’t want to, because it’s really not my business.”</p>
<p>“of course i want to talk to you. i looked forward to your phone calls every weekend. i always valued your opinions. your uncouth honesty has always…” <em>foiled my lies</em>, <em>quite nicely</em> is what akashi would say.</p>
<p>nijimura watches him curiously, with something steaming hot behind his gaze.</p>
<p>“anyway, i am not…interested in…”</p>
<p>“guys? you’re not interested in guys? fuck that, i’m not blind. neither is anyone else, by the way.”</p>
<p>but a brief pause allows akashi’s deep set frown to unravel into something more lax, and nijimura’s apparent frustration simmers down.</p>
<p>“what was the point of this, njimura-san? you wanted me to confess to you? you wanted me to say, <em>it’s only you</em>? is that right? it <em>is</em> only you. there is no one else i would want to…be close to, in the ways we are close. whatever that means for you, i do not know. but i’m not un-self-aware enough to not know we were always closer than the rest.”</p>
<p>“what?” nijimura blinks.</p>
<p>“and now, i have no interest in spending the next two hours debating whether this conversation was worth having or not. i have no interest in misunderstandings or feeling restless. but a lot has happened to me in the last few years. a few phone calls won’t erase that. a lot has happened to you too. neither of us have time for frivolous things.”</p>
<p>“damn…” nijimura drawls, in awe. “frivolous?”</p>
<p>“relationships are tiresome and unpredictable.”</p>
<p>and then nijimura gets back up, comes close to akashi’s small frame. nearly standing on top of him, akashi realizes how short he really is. nijimura seems to tower over him. he flicks akashi hard between the eyes. akashi makes an unsightly noise, stammering back.</p>
<p>“that was for being stupid. no one can predict how things work out, kid. you just have to feel it.”</p>
<p>and here is a strange moment where nijimura tilts his head down a bit too far and akashi’s hand flies up, straight to his own mouth, walling off the open space between them.</p>
<p>nijimura looks away.</p>
<p>“i don’t.” akashi clears his throat. “i don’t want to do that.”</p>
<p>there's a pain as akashi's arm falls away that they both feel.</p>
<p>"akashi, you have like three minutes until your train leaves. try to figure it out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>a false statement, because akashi is completely sure of his feelings. he’s sure that they are complicated, messy, and coming to be relevant at a completely bad time.</p>
<p>he has essays to write.</p>
<p>even then, he can’t look the way other way. he only has two doors. one is locked, the other gives way to a raging thunderstorm. but he can’t stay inside forever.</p>
<p>the enigma is the thought process and being unable to stop it from consuming him. the perplexity is, for the first time in a long time, having no idea how to approach this animal, unable to see the end results play out. familiarity drawls him in but strangeness snaps at him through barbed wires.</p>
<p>he mewls this over on the shinkansen and crawls back to his dorm room, luckily skipping over any unruly teammates.</p>
<p>he thinks he’s going to chew these thoughts all night, but he falls asleep fast, skin cold, waking to someone brushing back his hair in the morning light. when he opens his eyes, nobody is there. the room is empty. it’s just him and the ghosts of all the phone calls he had here months ago.</p>
<p>he calls nijimura almost immediately.</p>
<p>“would you like to go on an actual date?”</p>
<p>“…<em>this is a dream. it’s four in the morning.”</em></p>
<p>“you are wide awake, nijimura-san. i feel terrible for our correspondence last night. we should go on a date. next weekend. as an apology.”</p>
<p>there’s a deep, groggy breath on the other end of the line.</p>
<p>“<em>what the hell are you on about? don’t even have to apologize, stupid.”</em></p>
<p>akashi stalls. “then…you don’t want to?”</p>
<p>“<em>i…didn’t say that. what the hell, i’m dead asleep. i’ll call you back later, okay?”</em></p>
<p>“nijimura-san, it’s yes or no. it’s not calculus, even your neanderthal brain could come up with something.”</p>
<p>“<em>goodniiiight.”</em></p>
<p>the line dies; akashi swears and tosses his phone down on the bed, staring at it as though stares could destroy. what a wasteful two minutes.</p>
<p>nijimura calls him at four in the afternoon, right before akashi is about to unlock the gym for rakuzan’s first string evening practice. the practice doesn’t start officially until five and he’s the first one here, as always. even the coach is missing from his office. so, akashi grabs his phone and tosses all of his belongings on the locker room bench.</p>
<p>“it is about time,” says akashi, pressing the phone to his ear.</p>
<p>“<em>that’s not a polite way to answer the phone</em>.”</p>
<p>“i’m not trying to be polite, nijimura. you’ve left me on ‘read’ for twelve hours.”</p>
<p>nijimura chuckles, a static yet comforting sound through the line. “<em>sorry, i think we’re both on edge</em>.”</p>
<p>“you may speak for yourself, i feel perfectly grounded.”</p>
<p>“<em>you’re deflecting.”</em></p>
<p>“and you’re prolonging. i’ve asked you a question.”</p>
<p>“<em>akashi…” </em>nijimura’s tone goes soft, a bit apologetic. “<em>is it a good idea?”</em></p>
<p>“…is going on a date with me a good idea?”</p>
<p>“<em>there’s no reason to rush anything if you don’t want to.”</em></p>
<p>akashi scoffs. “we’re not getting married, nijimura-san. we are high schoolers.”</p>
<p>“<em>…it’s your call. next weekend? like, an official…date.”</em></p>
<p>akashi breathes, satisfied, falling on the lockers lightly. “i’ll come to tokyo. you can have saturday and i’ll take sunday?”</p>
<p>
  <em>“huh?”</em>
</p>
<p>“saturday is yours and then i’ll surprise you on sunday.”</p>
<p>“<em>it sounds like you already figured this out</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>“</em>i only wish for things to run smoothly…however, nijimura-san?”</p>
<p>akashi thinks back to their meeting the night before.</p>
<p>“<em>yeah?</em>”</p>
<p>akashi bites his lip.</p>
<p>“do not…we’re not going to…do anything inappropriate.”</p>
<p>there’s a clamoring sound, something falling to the ground, nijimura huffing a swear word. “<em>okay. shit, you don’t give a guy a warning? i’m cooking right now</em>.”</p>
<p>“you are not at basketball practice?”</p>
<p>“<em>touou doesn’t practice on monday</em>s<em>.”</em></p>
<p>“how would you have liked me to phrase it?”</p>
<p>“<em>i don’t care, it just took me off guard. out of curiosity though, what’s the great akashi seijuurou reasoning behind this?”</em></p>
<p><em>“</em>isn’t it’s based on principle?”</p>
<p>“<em>principle</em>?”</p>
<p>“i assumed it is customary to not do that before three dates.”</p>
<p>“<em>you think…kissing is inappropriate…akashi, you’re living in the last century</em>.”</p>
<p>“don’t be rude.”</p>
<p>“<em>it’s not really a big deal anymore, your first kiss</em>.”</p>
<p>“it is to me. are you calling me prudish?”</p>
<p>“<em>no, jesus. relax.”</em></p>
<p>“i am relaxed.”</p>
<p>“<em>you work yourself up too much.</em>”</p>
<p>“so you’re calling me obnoxious.”</p>
<p>“<em>you’re a nut head, kid.”</em></p>
<p><em>“fine</em>. my first kiss isn’t a big deal. then you better make it a good one, senpai.” and then akashi hangs up, not waiting for a reaction, and stares accusingly at his phone in his hand as if it had made him say those words. maybe he tells the phone to screw off, throws it on his gym bag and buries himself in his practice uniform, regretful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>it may be a lie to say akashi gets enough sleep these days.</p>
<p>he wakes consistently in a daze at all hours of the night, not knowing where he is or why. he wakes so early for morning training and stays so late for the evening’s. he continues to excel in the academics his father pays for, but could not tell you the last book he read for his own enjoyment. he does not even play shogi much anymore. but—</p>
<p>after being uprooted during the winter cup, he is utterly humbled by his team’s visceral demands for him to keep his captainship for his second year. and there <em>was</em> a discussion. what would be best for their team? akashi remaining number four, is something spewed repeatedly by the new third years. he is reluctant to call these people his friends. they stay in their lanes but don’t hesitate to jump into his if he needs it. maybe akashi is just bad at recognizing good intent, but he refuses to let their efforts go to waste, and puts his blood, sweat, and tears into rebuilding their trust.</p>
<p>with captainship at the second best high school in japan comes an unheard of amount of daily tasks. akashi writes these reports on the shinkansen.</p>
<p>what goes through his mind though is a mirage of memories; memories he created himself, out of feelings.</p>
<p>walking into the attendance office at teiko, catching eyes with a head of yellow-orange hair leaving the gates, thinking,<em> ah, a troublesome upperclassman</em>, and by the narrowing of his hooded eyes akashi could read the thoughts behind the bleach. <em>ah, another rich kid</em>.</p>
<p>the day they become officially acquainted, akashi recognizes him immediately, somewhat pleased by his energy as that of a dissipated riot, appreciating the change to dark hair.</p>
<p>memories of speaking up and getting told off, memories of nijimura taking the work load off his shoulders, of nijimura with an impatient <em>tch</em>, with a flick to his forehead. memories that akashi can categorize as all the moments he was not the most important person in the room, because nijimura was never timid or soft spoken. this person who had no qualms about telling akashi he was wrong.</p>
<p>his heart beating faster, that is the core of these memories.</p>
<p>but the truth is, his best friend has always been takashida-san, who picks him up from shimbashi station and takes him to nakameguro-ku, which akashi thinks is a cheesy place for a first date, but who is he to judge.</p>
<p>an official first date, which goes like this:</p>
<p>“ok, don’t laugh. or leave,” says nijimura, once he’s got akashi roped. akashi already has a deep rooted dislike for west tokyo, he doesn’t need him running off.</p>
<p>“if you are that concerned, you probably should have picked a different destination,” akashi suggests, staring up at the neon sign on a small building shoved between two apartment buildings, some alleyways away from the river.</p>
<p>when takashida let him out by the station, akashi had wandered until he found what he was looking for. it was that time of year, lanterns spiraling down the riverside, cherry blossoms only just beginning to bud, the air easily holding onto morning chill. luckily, the crowd wasn’t horrible, and akashi was able to spot nijimura up the first street, black on black on black, dark jeans and some off branded bomber jacket, head leaned into his arms resting on the railing, eyes closed.</p>
<p>“i never had time for basketball in america, but me and my sister played at the hospital and then i kinda got into it…” nijimura shrugs. “i know you think it’s stupid but i promise it’s fun.”</p>
<p>“isn’t your sister eight years old?”</p>
<p>“she’s ten now, thanks. and i played at school too. don’t need english for that.”</p>
<p>“i am a good judge of people, nijimura-san. as in, if you had been playing table tennis recreationally from the start we probably would have gotten on differently.”</p>
<p>nijimura glares down at him.</p>
<p>“don’t get cocky, kid. i wanted to do something i could beat you at.”</p>
<p>“right, it’s just a fact i thought i would bring to light before we go inside.”</p>
<p>“you’re going in?”</p>
<p>“of course, i wouldn’t leave just because it’s table tennis.”</p>
<p>“you can stop saying that.”</p>
<p>unsurprisingly, akashi is unnaturally (or naturally) good at table tennis, making it look like a child’s game from the first hit.</p>
<p>the ladies inside are kind but the way they stare at akashi’s back and whisper to each other is not lost on him, but he ignores it because he wants to win. the point gap stays consistently small but even though akashi hits the last ball out of bounds (due to an unprecedentedly obnoxious laugh from behind him), nijimura still loses, pouting as they walk out.</p>
<p>“i do not know what you expected.”</p>
<p>“i thought i had the advantage.”</p>
<p>“your sister clearly did not make hard enough competition.”</p>
<p>“you still had fun,” nijimura says out on the street, content with his attempt to ruffle akashi’s feathers.</p>
<p>“it was tolerable.”</p>
<p>“psh.”</p>
<p>“only tolerable.”</p>
<p>nijimura grins. “felt degraded?”</p>
<p>“of course, my time is very expensive. frivolous activities are not usually in my schedule.”</p>
<p>“but you make room for me.”</p>
<p>“yes, however, tomorrow, you’ll be making room for me, remember?”</p>
<p>the air fills with aromas of pastries and tea shops as they walk closer to the main street, nijimura pulling akashi forward and liking, too much, how akashi trails behind listlessly, letting nijimura guide him through in whichever direction he may want to go.</p>
<p>“and where are you taking me? a castle?”</p>
<p>“haha. it’s a secret.”</p>
<p>“you already told me to dress up, right?” and when akashi doesn’t say anything in return, only smiling politely, “fuck, i’m so freaking screwed.”</p>
<p>“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”</p>
<p>“you freaking better,” nijimura mutters. “what do rich people even do on the weekends.”</p>
<p>“nijimura-san, may i ask you something?”</p>
<p>“sure.”</p>
<p>“you always make remarks like that, about wealth and whatnot, but you attended teiko like the rest of us. i was wondering that your family must have been well off as well.”</p>
<p>nijimura slows, taken aback. “well…yeah. but we weren’t loaded. my dad worked for the military for a while so we got to go to whatever schools we wanted. mostly me, chiyo didn’t care.”</p>
<p>akashi goes quiet. “oh, i’m sorry for assuming.”</p>
<p>“it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. ‘s not really a big deal. i know what it looks like, wearing teiko’s uniform. it’s not a cheap one.”</p>
<p>somehow, the air remains light between them, a warm but not too warm spring breeze filtering in as they reach the river. nijimura looks back to akashi with tipped up lips.</p>
<p>“then, can i tell you something?”</p>
<p>“i would never let you not speak, senpai.”</p>
<p>nijimura takes a second to process that, that certain people akashi wouldn’t let speak, but he tries not to think of the implications.</p>
<p>“you’ve really grown up in the last two years.”</p>
<p>akashi looks to him, and then back to the glistening lights on the riverfront with a dusting of rose petal powder on his cheeks.</p>
<p>“it’s been two years.”</p>
<p>“sure, but…i dunno.” luckily, nijimura’s bravery cannot be defeated by chance of rejection alone. “i thought you were just a little kid in middle school, but you’ve seriously grown into yourself.”</p>
<p>akashi can’t hide the flush, and in the change of complexion and exposure to sunlight dripping down through trees, freckles show under his eyes. then he frowns, a classic defense mechanism.</p>
<p>“don’t make fun of me.”</p>
<p>and nijimura grins. “i’m not.”</p>
<p>“well,” akashi responds promptly, pausing, scrambling for cards to play. “you’ve grown up too.”</p>
<p>and to akashi, he really has grown up. he never knew the difference between nearly-sixteen and nearly-eighteen could be so big. akashi is just past sixteen now. this is not something he had considered before.</p>
<p>nijimura shrugs, not unhappily. “i had to.”</p>
<p>akashi reluctantly lets nijimura take him into a pancake shop, which is the cherry on the cake of this date, and afterward introduces him to his driver, takashida-san, who akashi had hidden from his classmates for a long time. he tells nijimura that takashida would be picking him up at eight pm exactly the next evening.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>tipsy fingers hold the ball dearly, rolling it back and forth between two small hands. sometimes it slips, rolls toward the house, bouncing off to come back to him.</p>
<p>shiori claps diligently, morning sun raining everywhere but <em>here</em>, in the shade of the house.</p>
<p>“can you throw it to the hoop?”</p>
<p>he does, throw it up, squinting at the sky. a ting of metal, a circular breeze, the ball falling down.</p>
<p>“you’ll be amazing one day, sei-kun,” she gushes. “oh, but you already are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>nijimura does the best he can with what he has.</p>
<p>even if he had known in advance what he was going to get himself into, he couldn’t have done any better, and he can tell that by simply spotting the kid on the stops of the tokyo metropolitan art museum before he’s even left the car. akashi, surrounded by journalists and photographers. not only is akashi is a dizzily attractive person to begin with, this is a family event. it has his name plastered to the sign outside and the clipboards of every writer wandering in hopes of making a front page article about the limelight of the akashi family. is it a family? can two people make up a family? the box lights cast dazzling attention on him, in some million yen blazer, dark auburn hair loose around his head, eyes like knives creased innocently.</p>
<p><em>oh, i’m a just a naive, helpless child, my ass</em>, nijimura thinks, walking up the steps. not one journalist for whatever business and class warfare magazines they write for stops him or even pays him a look. when akashi notices him, he turns happily, excusing himself from the attention, letting nijimura drag behind him to the doors.</p>
<p>“i just got here,” he says over the noise. “but vultures are fast.”</p>
<p>“you didn’t seem to mind,” nijimura grins, hoping to convey every ounce of discomfort in his body. “you should have told me what this was, i would’ve gladly rejected your offer and stayed home and eaten ramen.”</p>
<p>nijimura doesn’t blanch until after he realizes akashi has grabbed his hands, pulling him inside into a room of unnaturally white light and an abysmal amount of people. akashi’s hands are cool to the touch, and nijimura is surprised by, for how sophisticated they look, how rough they are, probably from basketball.</p>
<p>“that’s why i did not tell you. i had to bring a guest and you are the only one i would want to spend an evening with in these circumstances.”</p>
<p>“these circumstances?”</p>
<p>“this is really not my kind of party, nijimura-san.” akashi smiles. “but i thought you may appreciate the art, as well.”</p>
<p>true, this is an art museum. without even looking hard, nijimura can see the walls some rooms away, lined in canvases of smattered colors and lines.</p>
<p>there is one painting that catches nijimura’s eye particularly, as they walked through the maze of exhibits, but he isn’t a connoisseur of any type and looks away too fast to see any details; the canvas is ginormous, the main attraction of the room, colored in a backdrop of dark hues, spiraling blues and grays, transforming into a thunderstorm over a tiny white house in an otherwise empty field. actually, before nijimura had arrived, he’d noticed the clouds rolling in, the air getting heavy, starry sky disappearing behind gray.</p>
<p>“so what you’re telling me,” nijimura starts. “is that this was an elaborate plan to get someone to come with you to a fancy party.”</p>
<p>akashi makes a noise.</p>
<p>“a <em>fancy party</em>? hundreds of millions of yen go into these events.”</p>
<p>“money that gets drunk down by the end of the night,” nijimura shrugs. akashi huffs. “am i wrong? besides, if you wanted a foil, you should have just asked.”</p>
<p>“foil? that’s a high level concept, senpai. i’m impressed.”</p>
<p>“oh, shut up. i survived for two years in america on my own, i can survive this.”</p>
<p>“aren’t you mad?”</p>
<p>“well, it’s still a date right? we both wanted to go on a date. so, if you want to piss off your dad at the same time, it’s a win-win.”</p>
<p>“i didn’t want to make him mad, per say. i would like to show him that tall people can be impotent as well. for some reason he prides himself on how tall i stand, when in actuality i am quite short.”</p>
<p>
  <em>impotent…</em>
</p>
<p>“got that from your mom?”</p>
<p>akashi pauses. “i…don’t know. i don’t remember exactly how tall she was. but she had red hair too.”</p>
<p>“well, you certainly didn’t get your dad’s straightness.”</p>
<p>“please, i don’t see you rolling in masculinity.”</p>
<p>nijimura grins. “i don’t mind either. men or women. i mean, i’ve only had girlfriends before but i wasn’t opposed to the idea. in america, it’s pretty common.”</p>
<p>“does everyone who goes to america come back gay?” akashi wonders. “is kagami gay too?”</p>
<p>“i don’t really know the guy. himuro tatsuya’s pretty fluid though.”</p>
<p>akashi’s eyebrows raise, looking at him. nijimura flushes.</p>
<p>“wait, i didn’t mean—well, we <em>did</em> use to talk a lot but we never, like, actually dated or anything.”</p>
<p>“you’re a total player, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>nijimura protests, “i’m <em>not</em> really. i haven’t really had a serious relationship either.”</p>
<p>akashi laughs lightly, twisting his hands together as they exit back into the main hall.</p>
<p>“i’m joking. i suppose, having never considered myself to be the kind for…this sort of thing, it’s strange to hear about other people my age doing that. i don’t know. i haven’t thought about this much.”</p>
<p>it’s not lost on nijimura how akashi lets himself talk himself through conversation when they’re together. akashi doesn’t do that with other people; he doesn’t speak until he has something important to say. but with nijimura, sometime he allows himself to go listless.</p>
<p>“hey, is that…?”</p>
<p>akashi masaomi stands in the center of the room, on a dais of marble stone and black velvet, a commanding vision. nijimura is taken aback, at the lines of his face, despite loosened with age, still slim and lithe. he stands in the company of finely dressed colleges and holds a glass in one hand, the other resting in his jacket pocket.</p>
<p>“you look a lot like him.”</p>
<p>akashi looks up, shoulders loosened.</p>
<p>“i don’t mind.”</p>
<p>nijimura doesn’t know what that means, but akashi takes his hand again and pulls him into the room.</p>
<p>“no way, i’m going to meet your dad <em>right now</em>? fuck—”</p>
<p>akashi laughs then, brightly, before backing nijimura against the wall, lined with portrait paintings from no less than two centuries ago.</p>
<p>“no, you’re going to stay right here. i will be right back.”</p>
<p>blanching, nijimura watches akashi traverse the crowd, grabbing a wine glass off a passing-by tray, who upon noticing his son in the room visibly recoils. his shoulders fall from that of a king commanding an audience to a father exasperated by his child’s outlandish actions. the crowd around them casually disperses as masaomi moves away.</p>
<p>“seijuurou, what on <em>earth</em> are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“wasn’t it you who told me to start engaging in family affairs?”</p>
<p>“we are not socialites, this is business. you should be at school.”</p>
<p>“and,” akashi extends his glass and taps gracefully against his father’s, who stares down even more agitated. “i will be, tomorrow morning. it was nice seeing you though, i hope you have a pleasant evening.”</p>
<p>akashi steps down the dais, striding back to nijimura, guiding him around a corner to the staircase.</p>
<p>“so you <em>weren’t</em> supposed to come?”</p>
<p>“it was a good opportunity for a date.”</p>
<p>“you are an unreliable narrator of disproportionate levels, akashi.”</p>
<p>“why are you full of english terms tonight?”</p>
<p>nijimura puts his hand on the rail against the wall, stopping akashi from moving forward. for a moment akashi freezes, but looks up to see nijimura grinning at him.</p>
<p>“why are you convinced i have a monkey brain?”</p>
<p>akashi frowns. “because you act mostly on primal instincts, don’t you now?”</p>
<p>“if i acted on my primal instincts, i would kiss you right now.”</p>
<p>akashi’s mouth falls slant.</p>
<p>“but i won’t, because follow your orders, captain akashi.”</p>
<p>“that is…” akashi chokes. “no better, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>nijimura grins, letting his arm fall away.</p>
<p>“anyway, what was that? as much as i want to sympathize, all this rich people stuff gives me a headache. it may sound judgemental but if i talked to my dad like that i’d be sleeping on the streets.”</p>
<p>“were you able to hear?”</p>
<p>“not really, but he wanted to strangle you, i could tell.”</p>
<p>“well, remember that fame and fortune can not change a person who has always been famous and fortunate.”</p>
<p>“what if you lost it all?”</p>
<p>“if i lost it all?” akashi looks at him curiously. “wouldn’t i just start over? i have become quite well-versed at that, actually.”</p>
<p>nijimura blinks, appreciating the ease of this conversation, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep up.</p>
<p>the two of them exit onto the rooftop; a winding spiral of glass comes into view, what supposedly is the exhibit. it it intertwines seamlessly with a garden of rosebushes, hedges, and grass that lawns most of the roof, but on the outskirts sits tables for two and lounging sofas. people loiter, but it’s quiet up here. sounds of night peak through, gentle rolls of thunder from above, birds and wind through streets, down below.</p>
<p>they tend to the contraption, talking about some listless and some heavy weighted things, while groups come and go around them, and maybe an hour or two have past when they lean on the balcony, clouds already dissipated, not on the side facing citywards but the side facing forested hills. that’s the joy of tokyo, akashi knows, how seamlessly it blends into the country.</p>
<p>“what do you think, is time still going by slowly with me?”</p>
<p>nijimura nods, rejecting the urge to lean into akashi. their evening winds to a lazy halt, a particular drowsiness coveting their words.</p>
<p>“always does. you’re like my personal time tuner.”</p>
<p>“i’m glad i can be of some use, then.”</p>
<p>nijimura bumps his foot against akashi’s legs. “you’re more useful than that. maybe this world isn’t for me, but spending time with you is never a chore. this is what i meant, wanting to see you again. just being in the presence of someone who doesn’t…i don’t know, pretend to be someone else, is nice.”</p>
<p>akashi startles.</p>
<p>“pretend to be someone else?”</p>
<p>“most people do that,” nijimura fades off. “but you’re really honest. or maybe i’m just good at seeing through you. actually, that’s probably it.”</p>
<p>akashi stares downwards, to the dark grasses below, no light touching. he’s never thought of himself as an honest person. he’s never thought he told many lies, but that doesn’t directly correlate to being honest.</p>
<p>“besides,” nijimura adds, “all of this, it might seem like big money and reputation, but it’s still all you. this kind of environment, it suits you. you don’t play into it, it plays into you, even i see that.”</p>
<p>akashi brings his line of sight up.</p>
<p>“you must be tired.”</p>
<p>nijimura hums. “yeah, my mom tells me i ramble a lot around this time of night.”</p>
<p>akashi smiles, light.</p>
<p>“well, i guess it’s time to go. we both have school tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“the whole deal was a mindfuck.” nijimura says suddenly. “it’s probably hard to talk about so you don’t have to, but i can’t believe so much went down after i graduated. it’s weird to know what happened while seeing how all of you are now. it’s like nothing changed but there’s a whole unearthed history underneath.”</p>
<p>akashi is tempted to make a pun about earthquakes but he has been told in the past that he is naturally unfunny.</p>
<p>“i am just thankful,” akashi starts. “to still know those people fully.”</p>
<p>“huh?” nijimura peers down at akashi but it’s clear to him that akashi is somewhere else.</p>
<p>“maybe there’s a universe where we don’t speak anymore. it must have been a possibility, that having such a hard falling out would be impossible to rekindle. the progression at which we lost touch with reality was astounding. and it is not like this was a long time ago; this was only several months ago. but after you left, it became very clear to me that the team was going to unravel regardless. ripping it apart manually meant having much more leeway to put it back together. it was a time where all decisions were made haphazardly. but it seems like i made the right one. at least we…still know each other.”</p>
<p>the fact that nijimura, after everything that has happened, is somehow standing on a rooftop terrace in tokyo with akashi seijuurou with a strong desire to hold his hands is unbelievable in itself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi’s head spins with the speed in which nijimura has transformed from a sparse raindrop on a cloudy day to a violent thunderstorm that keeps his wandering mind at home all day. all it took was a bit of time, a glance, and some added maturity to start pouring. akashi wonders if nijimura is also dealing with the aspect of suddenly losing touch with real life to deal with problems that are specifically his own. maybe nijimura talks about this to other people, maybe nijimura is also staying home during the rainstorm. either way, akashi knows the other captain never liked rainy days.</p>
<p>“hey,” nijimura says, over the phone. “are you free next weekend? i know it’s sudden but i’m going somewhere next weekend and if you wanted to come with me, i dunno, it could be our third date.”</p>
<p>“you are certainly in a rush to finish our trial.”</p>
<p>nijimura laughs, clearly in a good mood. perhaps he’s enjoying the rain this time around. “sorry, the timing is coincidental.”</p>
<p>“what do you want to do, nijimura-san?”</p>
<p>“it’s a secret,” he bites, teasing. “but i need you all next weekend. so if you’re busy with coaching or school, just tell me and it’s fine. we can figure something else out.”</p>
<p>“no, i…” akashi thinks about how hard he’s going to get told off if he hands over practice to mibuchi again, but thinks about how much he would rather spend a weekend with butterflies in his chest than trying to keep a bunch of teenage boys in check.</p>
<p>so he says yes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“kagami-kun, the marshmallow is burning.”</p>
<p>“that’s the point, dumbass.”</p>
<p>any other time, akashi may have been off put by being called something so imbecilic, but the akashi sitting over the rakuzan common area couch, watching kagami hold picketed candy and chocolate over an open flame in his kitchen through webcam couldn’t care less.</p>
<p>“where are you going camping, anyway?”</p>
<p>“i am not sure we’re going camping. but i’ve decided to be prepared for the worst.”</p>
<p>“is knowing how to make smore’s that important?”</p>
<p>“i’ve heard it’s the most important part.”</p>
<p>“the most important part is actually <em>not</em> getting caught in a rock slide and dying, but y’know, whatever.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi’s expectations are intended to be shattered these days. these days, everything takes him off guard. he sets them so high that even the slightest tremor will bring them crashing down, and it’s one of the most satisfying things he can think of, as though he’s being plucked from the earth and having his seeds shaken over the grass, pollen dissipating through a sweet, salty spring breeze, where new flowers will grow in his place.</p>
<p>he is nearly late and misses the train nijimura is on, stemming from a place of unfamiliarity with the train systems and early morning traffic; once he is seated and flustered next to aforementioned former bad boy (laughing at akashi’s poor attempts at keeping his composure on a rustic local line), he realizes he hadn’t eaten all morning. but nijimura, his hero, whips out a box of station croissants. akashi nearly doesn’t question this but finds himself reeling.</p>
<p>“what is in these?”</p>
<p>“i dunno. msg, probably.”</p>
<p>akashi frowns but helps himself anyway.</p>
<p>after a half an hour of bumpy, plum blossom lit traveling, he realizes this will not be a five star train ride. (though, don’t be fooled, he finds the methodical rise and fall to be quite relaxing). with tokyo drifting behind them, he finally inquires.</p>
<p>“you still won’t say where we’re going?”</p>
<p>nijimura purses his lips.</p>
<p>“maybe. you haven’t guessed?”</p>
<p>akashi glances at him sideways. “i may have an idea, but you know i don’t like surprises. also, why aren’t we on a shinkansen if we’re going all the way to miyagi.”</p>
<p>“i’m paying for this date, dumbass. i’m not about to shill out hundreds of bucks when we can take the <em>scenic</em> route and actually see japan, which is something you probably haven’t done since you were…well, like ever. do you ever look out your tower window?”</p>
<p>akashi smiles despite the insult.</p>
<p>“it’s true, i don’t leave my small circles often. i was a sheltered child.”</p>
<p>“no shit. it’s not so bad. we’ll be there in a few hours. you can always sleep off those eye circles though, if you want.”</p>
<p>akashi’s brows furrow up. “don’t be rude. is it civilized, where we’re going?”</p>
<p>“civilized? holy shit, kid.”</p>
<p>“so there are people there.”</p>
<p>nijimura’s eyes shift away. akashi nods.</p>
<p>“and cows.”</p>
<p>the nod fades into a resigned grimace. nijimura chuckles.</p>
<p>“you’ll fit right in, i promise.”</p>
<p>some odd hours later, long enough for the sun to dip below it’s highest point, their train stops. it stops for three hours. akashi accidentally falls asleep on the platform bench, head nodding against brick wall. it can’t be comfortable but nijimura would be lying if it the boredom wasn’t setting in for him too. eventually the maintenance finishes and nijimura drags a very feisty akashi with messy hair (who resembles more of a strawberry flavored skittle in this state than a threatening heir to a multi-million dollar corporate estate) back onto the train until it stops at a few stations up and announces it would be halting for the rest of the day due to unforeseen mechanical problems.</p>
<p>the platform is barely a plank of wood with some stairs.</p>
<p>nijimura would be making some off hand comment about how at least the scenery is beautiful (miles and miles of green field and a trail of listless hills behind them) but akashi already has a taxi service on the phone and nijimura resigns to sitting next to him on the platform with uncertainty.</p>
<p>“i cannot believe you dragged me this far on a piece of scrap metal.”</p>
<p>to be fair, nijimura does look guilty.</p>
<p>“i didn’t think it would take this long, sorry.”</p>
<p>“please just feed me while the driver gets here.”</p>
<p>a few blocks down, in a town that can hardly be called a town but just a few old houses and shops overgrown with weeds, they find a ramen shop.</p>
<p>akashi hasn’t indulged in anything remotely resembling gluten or excessive amounts of sodium in since middle school, so with his extreme diet regimen and perfectly maintained physical condition in mind, he snaps the chopsticks and pulls a lavish amount of noodles into his mouth. nijimura would probably think he’s starving. he is.</p>
<p>nijimura softly laughs across the table.</p>
<p>“what?”</p>
<p>“it feels like we’re on a freakin’ field trip. i was thinking about our old training camps, in saitama, at that one resort with the hot springs. the time you got really sick and had the worst bed head. sorry, i know you ended up having pneumonia but all i remember is the bedhead.”</p>
<p>it then occurs to akashi, as he reaches for mushrooms, that he puts up with a lot that he usually wouldn’t, only because he likes nijimura’s company; he finds himself in varying uncomfortable positions because he simply enjoys standing next to nijimura, and with all nostalgia and treasured memories out of the way, he must love him in a tighter way than how he enjoys his other friend’s company, because with no one else would he allow himself to be stranded, destroying his balanced microbiome.</p>
<p>“are you trying to tell me my hair is disarranged?”</p>
<p>“it’s <em>messy</em>, akashi, you can just say it’s messy.”</p>
<p>the cab finds them at the station later that night, taking them an hour further north until the sun sinks below the mountaintops, moonlight hitting the snowed-peaks in a gleam, sky fading into sapphire and stars. they stop in a field of wheat, where a small, western-style home stand politely, as to not intrude.</p>
<p>sendai is actually closer to this spot than akashi expected, and over the hills the city light bubbles dimly on the horizon, but stops low enough to give way to a barrage of stars.</p>
<p>at eleven pm, all the lights are out. nijimura carries their bags to the front steps, knocking surely, both of them standing in anticipating stillness. a woman opens the door to them with clear, wondrous eyes and a smile for days. she rushes forward, embracing her son. her arms go over his, roping up around his neck where her hands grasp, locking together. nijimura becomes soft, melting like pudding into the warmth and while his expression is subdued, eyes tired, the relief is more clear than a summer day, tugging his lips into a line that can only be described as comfortable.</p>
<p>akashi feels more like an akashi in this moment than he has in some weeks, an outsider, a shell of a person waiting to be blown away by expectations, but before he can take a step back, a step outside their space, she turns to him just as patiently and holds out an arm.</p>
<p>“seijuurou-kun, isn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>within moments, akashi learns nijimura’s mother is kinetic, but in an organized way. dim candles line the genkan, opening to a common room and the kitchen. piles of books in various languages thrown haphazardly against walls, cream color tiles covered with an array of mishmash rugs in all possible colors, respectable furniture but an entire wall smattered in rainbow wallpaper. she hushes the travel-worn pair inside, spirited fingers on akashi’s back.</p>
<p>quiet is the household, asleep. she points nijimura down the hallway, to what is presumably his own room (he turns, looking apologetic, waving goodbye) and points akashi to the third floor, to a room akin to an attic, with a down feather mattress and quilt of the softest colors. there is a personal bathroom for him to get ready for bed, and a huge window bench, giving way to white-lit fields and sky abuzz with the orion arm of the milky way. she leaves him in silence to breathe in the empty space.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>arms around him, a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long.</p>
<p>akashi wakes with a start, heart quaintly knocking on the door of his chest with a few proposals. he ignores them all. sitting up in the dark, window on the wrong side of the room to catch any morning light, he feels his cheeks for new dampness there. certainly, the tightening in his chest was real.</p>
<p>painful, enough so to make him cry as he slept.</p>
<p>this is new.</p>
<p>akashi finds himself tiptoeing down the stairs, lost in the lightness of his body, the looseness of his clothes, in a strange house that is not his own but has all the makings of a real home, even in the dark. he peels the front door open quietly, hoping nobody is awake to hear, stepping on the wood porch with bare feet. he relishes in the immediate coolness steeping his skin, fresh air he can breathe freely with no strings. air that bleaches toxicity out of his blood.</p>
<p>this house faces the mountains, to one side night still claiming the sky, but the other beginning to fill with the first light of morning.</p>
<p>he sees his mother on the front steps, grinning like she has a secret, smiling like she loves him, madonna lilies woven in her hair like a crown. she shines in all lights: sun, moon, and stars, all at once.</p>
<p>and because he can’t breathe again, he retraces his steps into the house, washes his face and finds more appropriate clothing. he runs the distance between the house and the hills twice, sun rising and spilling light over the mountain tops, into the fields. heat beats down on him relentlessly. after, he pulls himself onto the steps of the house, reclaiming them, and sits in the cover of shade, breaths coming recklessly.</p>
<p>his other self, mostly dormant now, spins the lid on a jug of clear liquid. he tips it slowly, teasing, and then spills homesickness into akashi’s lungs until they become so disgustingly heavy that he finds himself falling, head kneeling between his knees. the liquid sloshes there happily.</p>
<p>behind him, the door swings open. akashi stands, head spinning, stumbling on the steps, turning to bow. but it is only nijimura standing there, who, if akashi felt on normal standards with, should have continued to bow, but he finds himself pausing. he already stands at a lower elevation, visibly flustered. akashi barely looks at him before sitting back down.</p>
<p>“morning,” nijimura says, stepping onto the porch, barefoot. “i didn’t realize you were up. saw you running.”</p>
<p>“good morning, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>nijimura watches him fidget his fingers, brush his bangs back, blink sullenly at his crossed legs, before padding closer quietly, leaning on the rails.</p>
<p>“i haven’t come up here much. the view never gets old though.”</p>
<p>“really?” akashi pauses. “there’s a field behind my father’s house. maybe i am used to it.”</p>
<p>“your dad’s house?”</p>
<p>“i try not to claim things anymore.”</p>
<p>akashi finally feels his heart rate coming down, sheen of sweat drying as a cool breeze billows over them. it is still too early for summer sounds, but a lonely cicada chirps from above him. his lungs feel calm now and he realizes metaphors are pointless.</p>
<p>“are you okay?” nijimura starts. “you look upset. we’re. you know. i’m not trying to be presumptuous but we’re friends. if there's something on your mind...”</p>
<p>akashi smiles and says flatly, “we’re friends?”</p>
<p>nijimura goes red. he coughs.</p>
<p>“yeah.”</p>
<p>“okay.” akashi looks to the mountains. “there is nothing to be worried about. i am peachy.”</p>
<p>“okay...but don’t pretend i’m not here, okay? my family is a bit…eccentric, but they’re really welcoming. they want to meet you.”</p>
<p>akashi suddenly raises his head to look back at him. </p>
<p>“that’s right. why did you bring me here?”</p>
<p>“why?” nijimura leans back on his hands, face tipped back to bright sun, highlighting the bit of pink residue. “i guess i wanted to see you breathe fresh air. up until now i’ve only ever seen you be...sententious. everyone needs fresh air, every now and then.”</p>
<p>"<em>sententious? </em>what did they do to you in america?"</p>
<p>nijimura laughs. "you get what i'm saying, though?"</p>
<p>“i suppose lately i thought things were comfortable. coming to realize it isn’t fully has been...uncomfortable.” akashi says, unfacile. “but it’s not horrible.”</p>
<p>“not horrible?” nijimura laughs again. “let’s go in, you’ll get a taste of horrible.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>to akashi’s horror, when he steps inside, nijimura’s mother and little sister are actively loose in the kitchen.</p>
<p>the girl stops parading and gawks at him.</p>
<p>“<em>ah! a prince!”</em></p>
<p>“chiyo!” nijimura snaps. his mother laughs.</p>
<p>akashi stiffens, red.</p>
<p>the next hour is a rush of akashi being sent away to get ready for the day, coming back downstairs to be met by nijimura’s loud, loose-step, and incredibly homespun family. his little sister chiyo stays close to their mother’s legs at the cast iron stove top, aromas of red pepper and chives sweetening the air. his little brother sits at the island with ears intently tuned to a chopin piece singing to the room. nijimura’s father sits casually at the end of the island, leaned back and observant in a reclined wheelchair, blankets thinly swung across his legs.</p>
<p>in the light, akashi notices the dark, gray tones of all of their eyes, so widely and happily absorbing the potent energy of eight am luster, when the day is brand new and shining. the sun spills crystal-colored light through the living room windows.</p>
<p>nijimura helps his mother set out hot pots of vegetables and rice, a plate piled high with fried tofu. he catches akashi’s shaky gaze from the bottom of the steps. he smiles, and his mother looks up, noticing him, and they burst into an array of <em>good morning</em>s and lively shouts.</p>
<p>chiyo sprints on slippery feet around the marble block and stands at akashi’s feet, chanting, “<em>akashisamaohayouakashisamaakashisamaakashisama—”</em></p>
<p>nijimura swoops in and plants her in a chair. “<em>okay</em>, sit down, <em>lady amalthea</em>.” he tells her, and then looks back to a blank face akashi. the nickname is, for once, not lost on him. “c’mon, breakfast’s ready.”</p>
<p>clouds pass over the sun, for a moment the room darkening, and in this moment akashi remembers the chill, early mornings of teiko’s training camps, up in the mountains, a smaller akashi climbing haphazardly out of bed to be met by a toned-down version of nijimura’s usual lively, energetic self. paler skin, hair wrecked by sleep, eyes empty with thoughts of nothingness and leftover dreams. nijimura is a lot older now, but his movements are still slowed from sleeping, not quite awake to the world. still, he’s older.</p>
<p>“nice to properly meet you,” his mother says gently as akashi slowly moves toward them. he is unsurprised yet unsure how to process this moment, having never experienced a juncture like this. “shuuzou told me you don’t eat meat, so we’ve got plenty of tofu! fill yourself up!” she slides a canister of green tea across the table.</p>
<p>there is only one open spot at the table, a negative space waiting for him to fill in the blank with red, next to nijimura’s father, who seemingly isn’t a talkative man, but is just as warm feeling as the rest. akashi places himself there trying not to think too much, bowing slight to the man with unfocused eyes.</p>
<p>“no need, no need for that, akashi-kun.” his voice is rougher than akashi had expected, but he sees the same twine of his lips that nijimura has, and crow’s feet dig graciously into the seams around his eyes. he looks older, but his gaze shines. “pretend you’re a nijimura today. welcome home.”</p>
<p>akashi tries to remember to blink. “yes, thank you.”</p>
<p>“well, seijuurou—” nijimura’s mother pipes in. “we’ve never formally been introduced.”</p>
<p>his mother’s name is kisaki, which akashi hadn’t known, and his father’s name jirou, with the same kanji as akashi’s given name. kisaki boasts her baby keio as a polite child with intellect beyond the rest of them, and chiyo as the rumbustious ten year old you would expect from a first born daughter. akashi wonders about the age gap between all these siblings but knows it would be rude to ask, and besides, the nausea seesawing like ocean waves in his gut does not allow for many words to surface anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>this spring tastes like lemon cake, fresh cream and honeycomb. it melts around akashi in a sugary miasma that only leaves his normal leisure tasting bitter and stale. when he leaves this place, kyoto will take on the bite of finely ground espresso.</p>
<p>a breeze blows over the fields surrounding them, grasses licking akashi’s bare feet, swelling and falling in the pattern of ocean waves. broad daylight is <em>broad</em>, high sun coating the miles of verdant, golden wheat, spanning to the mountains in the distance, to the hills they came from.</p>
<p>he watching chiyo’s form wrestle nijimura through the tillage. keio holds tight onto nijimura’s neck. sprouts come up in vines but as it’s a newly born household, nothing has come into bloom yet. kisaki tells him about the pepper seeds she got from her mother, and from her grandmother before that. seeds from the same families of vegetables, through the generations of theirs, being one of the reasons they wanted to move to a place they could farm. akashi doesn’t quite understand the concept but respects the notion.</p>
<p>behind the house is a moderately sized barn. of course there are horses there, because everything in akashi’s life is a parallel, he’s come to realize. three of them, retired race horses that lived here before nijimura’s parent’s bought the house. the couple had left them as a gift, both a curse and a blessing. luckily, kisaki exclaims, akashi knows all about horses.</p>
<p>“they’re in good condition,” akashi remarks, observing the way kisaki leads one of them out, a brown-coated thoroughbred called miana.</p>
<p>“considering their age, they’re very spry. we just don’t know what to do with them.” she shrugs, happily. “it’s a strange problem to have. but chiyo, she’s obsessed with them.”</p>
<p>the chiyo in question stands behind akashi’s legs, clinging as miana neighs forward. akashi takes the reign from the front, brushing over her coat, the roughness an odd familiarity he didn’t expect to encounter here.</p>
<p>chiyo whines, “if they were unicorns, it would be better.”</p>
<p>“she waits upstairs and looks out the window for hours sometimes, this nutty girl. waiting for them to grow horns.”</p>
<p>“just <em>one</em> horn! each!”</p>
<p>“don’t they already have horns?” akashi says, without thinking. “it’s not that they don’t have them, it’s that you cannot see them.”</p>
<p>“i wanna see them!”</p>
<p>akashi bends down to her level, surprisingly pleased at getting the attention of a child.</p>
<p>"if you find the lakes behind these mountains one day, maybe you can rescue them. you'll be able to see their horns again."</p>
<p>nijimura’s father watches from the porch, chuckling, and when akashi is near again later, mentions that he’s well-read.</p>
<p>akashi turns away, red.</p>
<p>“actually, i only saw the film.”</p>
<p>he laughs again. “fine, fine."</p>
<p>akashi learns later that evening, after dinner, that nijimura’s father had had tumors in his legs that eventually spread to his lungs. because his lungs had only been briefly impacted, chemotherapy brought an unexpected amount of success and once the tumors had been removed, he was practically good as new. he says this is in part due to his wife’s insistence on eating healthy long before they discovered he was sick, and in part due to shuuzou keeping their family afloat in america.</p>
<p>“so lucky to have such a capable son.”</p>
<p>“yeah, yeah.” nijimura grins, grabbing the dishes from his father’s hands. “don’t be embarrassing.”</p>
<p>“you know, the only time i can think of when he left us stranded, was when he had this girlfriend—”</p>
<p>dishes clatter in the sink.</p>
<p>“they apparently broke it off because she was more of a cat lady—”</p>
<p>“<em>OKAY</em>.”</p>
<p>akashi finally cracks a baby grin. just as with his former teammates, a certain part of him realizes he does not have to feel comfortable here. to know he is welcome is enough.</p>
<p>“i actually prefer cats to dogs, as well, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>“<em>hey,</em> don’t push me. i’ll send you home right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>another thing nijimura’s parents were oblivious to when they bought this house is that the town on the other side of the mountains lights fireworks over the lake, nightly. just a few, but enough to catch the attention of passerbyers. it’s apparently ritual to keep unsightly energy away and maintain a spot on the tourist map. keio hates the noise so he stays in, and it’s just the three of them outside as the sun begins to descend.</p>
<p>“hmm,” nijimura thinks. “what now?”</p>
<p>“we can make smore’s.”</p>
<p>“what?”</p>
<p>chiyo jumps up, grabbing her brother’s arm violently.</p>
<p>“<em>SMORE’S.”</em></p>
<p><em>“woah, </em>okay, okay. let’s go see, i dunno if we have the stuff for it…”</p>
<p>a few minutes later, there’s a small fire going, built on twigs and old boards from a lighter.</p>
<p>“is this safe?” akashi asks.</p>
<p>nijimura shrugs, “it was your suggestion. weird-ass suggestion, by the way.”</p>
<p>“gimme that,” chiyo climbs over nijimura, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and shoving them into her mouth, cheeks bubbling out.</p>
<p>“<em>hey</em>, we need those. and be careful. that’s a real fire.”</p>
<p>she rewires her attention to the growing flames.</p>
<p>“it looks yummy.”</p>
<p>nijimura sighs, letting her lay over him just to be able to hold her back.</p>
<p>“fire isn’t edible, dummy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi discovers he does not like smore's. they are too soft and hard at the same time.</p>
<p>chiyo droops in nijimura’s lap as the fireworks start. the pops of neon against night sky are eye catching but the noise is dulled by the distance. they don’t pop like if you were sitting right under them. still, the fire sizzling out blends with the backdrop of stars quite nicely.</p>
<p>nijimura heaves her up and carries her to the porch, leaving akashi alone. in this brief minute akashi thinks back to when he was maybe nine or ten and lighting firecrackers with his parents in the field behind their house, akashi in awe of the sizzling light and heat, his mother dancing carelessly to the soundtrack of night time sounds, crickets and owls and her own violin. yukimura sleeps out in the distant barn, and his father watches and smiles and claps when she turns to bow.</p>
<p>most nights with the akashi family were spent in carefully tended gardens in the next estate over, accompanied by dressed to the nines guests and live orchestral bands, violins and piano playing <em>nocturne </em>or something of the like. masaomi may claim to be a businessman, but these events were social by nature.</p>
<p>on the rare occasion, when everyone was home and no events were planned and masaomi had no work to attend to, they would simply exist in their summer home and eat humbly, fairy lights casting a dim, warm glow across the patio. his parents would pour wine and sip, laughing for hours about this and that, and akashi would stay close by, with yukimura or a basketball, basking in what was probably the closest thing to normal they could get. he would sometimes sit between them on the ground and wonder who he resembles most.</p>
<p>akashi hears nijimura and his sister giggling, and then the door opens and closes, and nijimura’s footsteps come close once again.</p>
<p>something isn’t right. akashi’s fingers have felt cold all evening, entwining and unfurling, nerves set on fire. his mother hasn’t saturated his thoughts so heavily since…ever. he never had time to think about her before but now that he’s started, she’s there, in every sentence and every breath.</p>
<p>“and then there were two,” says nijimura, sitting back on the grass. the fire burned out some time ago but the burnt aroma remains. “are you tired?”</p>
<p>“not really.”</p>
<p>“thanks for putting up with everything today. i know they’re..a lot. but they’re mostly normal, most of time.”</p>
<p>“i think they’re charming, nijimura-san,” akashi interrupts, kindly. “your home, your family, they’re all lovely.”</p>
<p>nijimura twines his fingers together, a satisfied smile coming to light.</p>
<p>“they’re my most important people. if i didn’t have them. if—” and for a brief second, akashi knows he is definitely wondering of those years his father spent sleeping in hospital beds, a time full of ifs and doubts and fears, and that what if. his eyes and voice are full of gratitude. “anyway. you get it.”</p>
<p>“i get it.”</p>
<p>they sit in quietness, watching the lights halfway. akashi watches the lights, and nijimura watches him; eyes cast to the sky but in another galaxy, glazed over, body still and unwavering in the breeze.</p>
<p>“what are you thinking about?”</p>
<p>akashi inhales, slowly, a full breath reaching his lungs. clean air, the air he has come to appreciate so much in just one day.</p>
<p>“it’s interesting,” he muses, “because when my mother died, it was very fast. as they say, like ripping off a bandage.” his tone, oddly fond, lingers there, fingers tracing in the grass absentmindedly. “we didn’t have the honor of watching her go. she was there, and then she wasn’t, and my life continued the same. but you’ve been burning in all those horrors for so long, and to suddenly be free of them must be strange. yet wonderful.”</p>
<p>fireworks gush in the space between them, and tension oozes until it finally implodes and soaks the earth underneath them. nijimura stays quite, looking out to the sky with far away eyes, even though his clenching hands in the grass say he is very much present, here in the this time.</p>
<p>“i apologize,” akashi murmurs, leaning away. he doesn’t sound sorry, just exhausted. “i shouldn’t have said that.”</p>
<p>nijimura, for some reason, leans back in, equalizing their lost space.</p>
<p>“you’re not wrong. i’m sorry, akashi. even though we had this common, it’s not really the same thing.”</p>
<p>“…we don’t share many qualities, no.”</p>
<p>the thing they connected with no longer resonates with either of them. a bitterness fills akashi’s throat. he tries to swallow it down but it sticks and secretes the worst aftertaste. he can’t say how nijimura feels on the subject, but surely he harbors some of the same, astringent nostalgia. still, he doesn’t wish to be pitied. he sits with his arms hugging his knees, feeling the weight of his body.</p>
<p>he <em>is </em>small, but he hasn’t recognized the ache of <em>feeling</em> small before.</p>
<p>his mother would call his height cute, his father calls it unfortunate.</p>
<p>nijimura somehow ‘won’ this and he ‘lost’. pity is the last thing he wants this exception of a person he’s allowed into his daily life to have for him. if the one person he made a conscious decision to plant and sprout into his life on pretense of a gut feeling called ‘connection’ and naive emotional attachment fails him, that means he has lost.</p>
<p>there is merit to hard work and results. there is none in wild cards.</p>
<p>the truth is, akashi is not afraid to lose anymore. as midorima would say, there is pride in standing up after falling.</p>
<p>but he really does not want to lose.</p>
<p>losing would be a slap across the face from his father who he loves despite his best interests. even if his father never knew one bit of this blooming flower, his cheek would still sting. his father would say, <em>“you should have known better</em>.” and while his father’s approval is the last thing he <em>needs</em>, it is something he wants<em>.</em></p>
<p>“akashi?” nijimura peers over at him. “are you okay?”</p>
<p>akashi wants to nod, to say anything at all, but a sudden wall between them brings akashi to wonder why he’s even here, why he doesn’t rip out the roots of this right now.</p>
<p>“nijimura-san.” akashi says finally, gathering his senses. “that was a silly thing to say. of course we have things in common. we were both teiko captains. we’re both sitting here right now.”</p>
<p>because that is the root of it all. the first time nijimura took him to a convenience store and akashi made him try pineapple for the first time, and how now nijimura goes out of his way to buy him fruit. a bubbling heart and simmering eyes, all things new when they first met. akashi had never met anyone like him.</p>
<p>“nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>“yeah?”</p>
<p>“you’re not afraid of me, and you never have been.”</p>
<p>“yep.”</p>
<p>“why not? everyone else was.”</p>
<p>akashi startles, legs unfurling, when nijimura flicks his fingers on the back of his head, then ruffling his fingers through the cerise mess.</p>
<p>“cus’ you’re a freaking brat. who the hell cares what we have in common anyway. you said it yourself, we’re here right now.”</p>
<p>“but you felt inferior then.”</p>
<p>nijimura shrugs. “i don’t regret anything. the number four, at the end of the day it was ours. how many times do you have to say things aren’t the same now as they were for you to actually believe it?”</p>
<p>akashi lays back on the grass, swallowing. he doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t look at nijimura either. he closes his eyes.</p>
<p>“do you know who my most important person is?”</p>
<p>nijimura thinks, watching color after color fall delicately over the mountain tops. “isn’t it yourself?”</p>
<p>“is that what you think of me?”</p>
<p>“look, you know i’m not self-serving.”</p>
<p>“okay. well. the thought of losing you to my own indifference and incompetence is an outrageous thought.”</p>
<p>nijimura wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, to listen, but it’s hard to imagine that akashi is so lonely he clings to the remnant of good memories, and values them over anything.</p>
<p>“yeah,” he nods. “i understand that.”</p>
<p>actually, he says, <em>i wish i could understand that</em>. akashi does hear it, loud and clear, but he’s thankful he isn’t rejected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi thinks he may be dreaming. as the refrigerator door falls shut and light falls from the room, just dull moonlight to help his eyes, nijimura’s mother greets him from the other side of the room. akashi starts, bottle already wet with condensation slipping from his grasp onto the floor with a crackling thud. luckily, the lid was still screwed on tight, but with shaky fingers he crouches down to pick it up.</p>
<p>“good evening, nijimura-san.”</p>
<p>“he’s talked a lot about you, you know.” nijimura’s mother leans elbows in on the marble-crested island, streaked with shadows of the windowpanes and squares of moonlight. “ever since his time in middle school. he quieted down a bit in america. we were all a bit quiet during that time. but when he said he wanted to bring you here, we felt a bit of nostalgia for those times. my husband and i, rather.”</p>
<p>akashi watches her reminisce, once again unsure of his footing, thinking this world might fall out from under him, or that he might startle awake in tears. lately, he is feeling quite overwhelmed at mundanity.</p>
<p>“i hope you know we knew you for a long time before this, and though you’re only just meeting us, this house is an open invitation at all times. if you ever need…” she pauses, smiles, and akashi can read the word <em>mother</em> right off her tongue. “—a break from that crazy tokyo. living in the city was never my <em>thing</em>, you know. it was a great opportunity at the time but it’s better to raise children here, where the air stays clean, and nothing is violent. except the storms,” she says wispy. “the storms out here bring a lot of thunder.”</p>
<p>akashi holds onto his water. he hasn’t even begun to twist the cap open. nijimura’s mother stands and nods goodnight, carrying herself out like a ghost.</p>
<p>the morning passes without akashi this time. he sleeps in past eleven, and when nijimura comes to wake him, he wakes with a start, still deep in sleep. nijimura calls him cute, ruffles his bedhead, before leaving him be. the smell of sugary syrup, waffles, and whipped cream spin through his head, leaving him dizzy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p>“have you enjoyed working with aomine again?”</p>
<p>a few miles north, trails open up to the public. rocky terrain, temperate forestry coming into blossom, everything crisp and vibrant with the change of the seasons, it’s nearly the perfect timing for this kind of thing, with the air so clean and easy to breathe. it’s a bit cold, but akashi doesn’t mind. late morning light dots down on them under the canopy of greenery, akashi’s favorite time of day.</p>
<p>there’s a slight burn in his legs, despite his religious weekly trainings. akashi appreciates this the most. anxiety may best be relieved through physical endeavors.</p>
<p>“working with?” nijimura huffs. “i’d say sometimes we co-exist in a room together without him trying to eat me…otherwise, it’s not so bad. he thinks he’s all cool shit right now, but it’s nice to see him enjoying basketball again. even i remember what he was going through back then.”</p>
<p>“why did you start playing basketball, nijimura-san?”</p>
<p>“hmm? no real reason, i guess. why does anyone start anything…i was probably just a bored kid, needed to let off steam. it worked, i think.”</p>
<p>“then do you enjoy playing it?”</p>
<p>“obviously," nijimura looks at him like he's crazy. "but i mostly stayed for the community part of it. though it might have been different for you anti-social nerds,” (the generation of miracles, he means). he adds, offhandedly, “i actually made a ton of friends at teiko.”</p>
<p>“isn’t that a bit cliche?”</p>
<p>nijimura shakes his head, clicking his tongue.</p>
<p>“can’t be too cool for cliches,” he answers, which akashi thinks is incredibly passé.</p>
<p>“i must not be very cool.”</p>
<p>“you’re cool enough to me, kid,” nijimura says, pushing akashi up a set of stone-carved steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“i’m emailing you something.”</p>
<p>“huh?”</p>
<p>“our train tickets.”</p>
<p>nijimura wants to strangle him, akashi can tell. but still, akashi smiles gracefully.</p>
<p>“we will be taking the shinkansen back. this way we can stay tonight and go back in the morning. you don’t want to leave, do you?”</p>
<p>akashi knows it’s a blessing in disguise. nijimura wouldn’t admit it, but he would begrudgingly accept if not to make up for time lost and save himself a penny.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi sits in the pile of mundanity he has avoided his entire life.</p>
<p>these mundane things overwhelm him in indescribable ways, which is why he generally avoids them.</p>
<p>“akashi, it’s your turn.”</p>
<p>true, akashi has been zoning out. it seems nijimura’s father has made a grievous mistake. well, quite subtle actually, but it’s enough for akashi to know the outcome within a few plays.</p>
<p>akashi would usually dislike pity plays; they throw all to fate. leaving things to fate when it comes to akashi is like placing your eggs in a basket and handing it to him, not believing he would take it. not only do you end up with no eggs, you end up with no basket at all.</p>
<p>however, this is nijimura’s father, akashi’s <em>final boss</em> for the evening. when nijimura mentioned akashi was a seasoned shogi player, his father mentioned a time when he himself had been well known on the chess scene, so here they are. akashi had let chiyo win but she had no interest in serious games, so akashi was here with the mind numbing decision to play his castle or leave the basket where it sits, untouched, if only to be fair.</p>
<p>“hey,” nijimura shoves him from behind him on the sofa. “don’t wimp out.”</p>
<p>akashi laughs softly, and apologetically leans forward to hit his castle forward and pluck the king away. he doesn’t say anything, but twists the piece around his fingers. nijimura’s father laughs like nijimura does, loudly and kindly, clapping dutifully.</p>
<p>“i see how you would make a good shogi player. you’ve truly never lost a match?”</p>
<p>akashi hesitates, placing the pieces back into the box with care.</p>
<p>“i lose frequently. i learned from my father.”</p>
<p>“ah,” he laughs. “the death of the artist, they say.”</p>
<p>kisaki quips, keio crawling over her lap on the couch against the rainbow wall, “this is a great time to dig out the family photos—”</p>
<p>“akashi, let’s go do dishes.”</p>
<p>“<em>shuuzou</em>,” his mother snaps. “seijuurou-kun is a guest, not an indentured servant. seijuurou, pay him no mind. shuuzou, you and your sister can take care of it later.”</p>
<p>“<em>nooo, mamaaaa</em>.”</p>
<p>akashi has varying feelings about being called his first name so casually and so frequently, but finds himself distracted by nijimura grabbing his arm and pulling him as he stands up.</p>
<p>“she can’t reach the counter,” nijimura says, smiling. “akashi, let’s go.”</p>
<p>akashi follows nijimura tentatively, standing at the sink with tied hands as nijimura starts gathering the leftover dishes at the table.</p>
<p>“why do you look like i asked you to jump off a bridge?”</p>
<p>“…i have never washed dishes before.”</p>
<p>nijimura stares at him, quite comically, before calling him a brat and throwing him a dish towel.</p>
<p>“fine, i’ll wash, you dry. don’t break anything.”</p>
<p>“i’d much rather see your baby photos.”</p>
<p>“maybe i <em>will</em> ask you to jump off a bridge.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>after another long day of slinking around, letting chiyo be the cob to their robbers, akashi lights the candles on the front porch on his own time, expecting to be alone as nijimura’s family retire for the night. even nijimura had made himself sparse, but as akashi scoots back against the rails, white wood flickering with flames, pulls out the worn paperback he’d found on one of the many bookshelves in the house<em>, </em>the door opens and a familiar set of bare feet step out.</p>
<p>“oh, you’re busy.”</p>
<p>“no,” akashi says, closing the cover. “if you need something.”</p>
<p>“just. you know. not tired.”</p>
<p>“you can sit, if you’d like.”</p>
<p>the door clicks shut behind him, and nijimura pads closer, sitting across from him, legs dangling over the edge, leaning on the support beam to the side. he’s already showered, hair slightly damp, muscles relaxed. akashi realizes they must have a different kind of soap here, because nijimura’s usual underlying scents have been replaced with something nutty and warm.</p>
<p>nijimura laughs lightly, unprompted.</p>
<p>“i’m sorry for keeping you again. we have to wake up so early,” he sighs. “but i’m not even remotely ready to sleep.”</p>
<p>“me either.”</p>
<p>“yeah,” nijimura says, looking around. “you’ve got the whole setup. candles, pillows. always the life of luxury for you, huh, kid?”</p>
<p>akashi scoffs.</p>
<p>“i am not that stuffy. i enjoyed being here, for the weekend.”</p>
<p>“even though we don’t have maids?”</p>
<p>“the day you sleep in <em>my </em>house, nijimura-san, you will come to know the joys of barely lifting a finger to even get out of bed.”</p>
<p>nijimura grins. “the day i sleep over in your house?”</p>
<p>“it is hypothetical. i suppose i live mostly in a dorm now.”</p>
<p>“ah, right.” nijimura drifts off, eyes drooping. “i forgot about that. i guess it’s not realistic to think you’ll come to tokyo every weekend. we probably won’t be able to see each other very often.”</p>
<p>“you should have come to rakuzan.”</p>
<p>nijimura’s expression goes sour.</p>
<p>“<em>well</em>," akashi says, playing off him. "then don’t expect to win any basketball tournaments this year.”</p>
<p>“hey, remember who taught you everything about being a captain. i can take it away if i want,” nijimura threatens, playfully. “you don’t know what skills i’ve picked up being away.”</p>
<p>“considering that you switched out basketball for table tennis, i wouldn’t be so confident, senpai.”</p>
<p>“you know,” nijimura says, off topic, not that there is a topic to any late-night conversations (they tend to wander), “my sister loves you. she thinks you’re a prince, but i don’t blame her,” he adds. “sometimes i think you’re a prince too.”</p>
<p>akashi huffs, “that’s ridiculous.”</p>
<p>"you're right. you're more like a princess. i'm your white knight, right?"</p>
<p>akashi sighs, melodramatic, rubbing the spot between his forehead. "why do i like you?"</p>
<p>"if you hadn't noticed, i like <em>you</em> too. but i'm not asking why."</p>
<p>akashi bites his nails.</p>
<p>"you're very blunt."</p>
<p>"you may be the one who asked me out, <em>technically</em>, but i'd like to take this moment to..." nijimura stops. he lets his formal speech set in. "—say i have a crush on you, akashi."</p>
<p>akashi groans into the back of his hand, embarrassed laughter huffing through.</p>
<p>nijimura laughs, watching akashi again. the porch light is dim over them, but the candles cast glowing flickers over his body, cheeks, reddened. his arms are covered by sleeves, loose shorts pulling up to his thighs. nijimura had actually never seen that much of akashi’s legs before, even though they’d shared a locker room for two years. the thought sends him spiraling.</p>
<p>“akashi,” he says, gently, pulling the redhead’s gaze up innocently. “i want to kiss you already.”</p>
<p>akashi opens his mouth, and closes it again.</p>
<p>“your parents are <em>inside</em>, and that is what you think about?<em>”</em></p>
<p>nijimura slouches down against the wood, crossing his arms happily.</p>
<p>“they’re going to bed. the kids are already asleep.”</p>
<p>akashi tries to find the words, but just says, “you are shameless.”</p>
<p>“hey,” nijimura says, a little more forgiving. “i just want you to know i think about it. there’s no pressure.”</p>
<p>akashi looks away, slowly placing the book down next to him. he stares into his hands, seemingly lost. it’s when his mouth turns particularly downwards, eyebrows slanted in displeasure, that nijimura pipes up.</p>
<p>“what’s up, akashi?”</p>
<p>akashi shakes himself.</p>
<p>“there is…nijimura.”</p>
<p>“hmm?”</p>
<p>“i wasn’t fully honest with you about something.”</p>
<p>nijimura’s good mood sizzles out, but he tries to keep his projections light.</p>
<p>“okay, about what?”</p>
<p>“i have already…” akashi mutters. “i mean, i didn’t. i was, or i have been—”</p>
<p><em>ho boy</em>, nijimura thinks.</p>
<p>“i mean, i have been kissed before.”</p>
<p>“what?” nijimura stops. he’d had the feeling akashi was thinking a little too hard over there. “you think i actually care about stuff like that?”</p>
<p>akashi’s head tilts away, reluctant.</p>
<p>“akashi.”</p>
<p>then he starts speaking rather fast.</p>
<p>“i know. it was shallow of me to assume that. i allowed anxiety to get the best of me and i assumed—i never had any intent to kiss anybody but chihiro is a hot headed individual and i suppose if you combine anger and frustration, some people release that pressure physically. after the winter cup he was quite the combination of both. however, after that we never spoke of it again. he has a girlfriend now. of the two-d affair, but still.”</p>
<p>nijimura nearly chokes.</p>
<p>“hold on, stop. you don’t have to defend yourself. what are you on about? why would i care if you kissed someone?”</p>
<p>akashi hums, cheeks burning, “is it not better?”</p>
<p>nijimura stares, dumbfounded. he had no idea akashi was buying into the kind of thoughts pushed into dramas and manga. nijimura wondered before if akashi was still too young but maybe it’s just lack of life experiences. he really did grow up in a tower. there may only be a year and a half between them but triple that if you bring in akashi’s sheltered childhood and ignorance of the real world, of the real lives people his age live.</p>
<p>“you can call me immature, but i wanted you to be the first.”</p>
<p>“why?” nijimura asks halfheartedly. he’s not the shy type but this conversation is oddly naked.</p>
<p>“i…if you didn’t know, i really—” he tucks himself into his knees. “liked you, in middle school.”</p>
<p>“of course i know that, idiot. i just thought you were nervous.”</p>
<p>“you would also be correct in that assumption.”</p>
<p>“what?”</p>
<p>“hasn’t there been an inappropriate amount of build up to this?”</p>
<p>“i don’t care. how many times do i need to say that? whenever, however, how ever many. i’m gonna knee you if you keep going on like this. welcome to the real world where people kiss just because they want to. maybe it is a big deal, but that’s your call. you’ve never asked me if i kissed someone before.”</p>
<p>“you are older than me.”</p>
<p>“yeah, but not by like, light years. just because we’re both guys doesn’t mean you need to fall into some stereotypical submissive shit. we’re just two people, okay? don’t belittle yourself.”</p>
<p>akashi’s face, caught in half moonlight, glances up to him, eyes lit, curiosity sparkling under his crumpled composure.</p>
<p>“isn’t this technically our third date?”</p>
<p>nijimura’s nose wrinkles.</p>
<p>“does <em>not</em> feel like a date.”</p>
<p>akashi smiles.</p>
<p>“but,” nijimura corrects himself. “i—yeah, we can, sure. that’s why i brought it up. but only if you want to.”</p>
<p>for a moment, neither moves, so riding the breeze of his previous bout of courage, akashi crawls over to him. nijimura’s previous shyness returns as akashi falls closer, scooting between nijimura’s open legs, kneeling back on his feet. akashi’s hands come up; nijimura grabs them both by the wrist, holding close, feeling the cool, smooth skin there, feeding the space between them with their physicality.</p>
<p>up close, akashi sees the shimmer of clean brown in nijimura’s narrow eyes, his cheeks—pink—, and lips, barely parted and color of dusty peach. his stomach drops, his fingers shake in nijimura’s hold but he pretends they aren’t. his hair falls annoyingly in front of his eyes but nijimura’s lets go of one arm to brush it away. akashi wonders how <em>he</em> looks right now. how he shines in the light of the half moon and vanilla candles, what he feels like, how cold his skin is—if he’s flushed and breathing hard enough for nijimura to feel the air on his nose.</p>
<p>“did you know you have freckles?”</p>
<p>akashi blinks.</p>
<p>“like—just a few, here.” he points, drawing a faint line across the bridge of his nose. “really light. probably because you’ve been in the sun the last few days.”</p>
<p>“you noticed.”</p>
<p>“fitting for a redhead.”</p>
<p>“very funny.”</p>
<p>nijimura laughs softly. “just teasing. they <em>are</em> pretty cute though.”</p>
<p>suddenly, his mother stares back at him, shoulders bare and full of sun spots, face blown wide in laughter, littered with dots in the summer evening light. that’s right, his mother had had freckles in the summertime, always spending her days listless in the garden, collecting sunshine on his cheeks and storing it away for rainy days.</p>
<p>nijimura’s light chuckle brings him back. “you there?”</p>
<p>“i’m here,” he says, wrapping his arm around nijimura’s neck. nijimura is warm, familiar, solid. akashi likes how, like this, his captain is the shorter one for once.</p>
<p>when akashi finally leans down, connects the gap, it’s not his lips nijimura feels, but the deep, unwarranted clenching of his diaphragm, the throat tightening beyond a point of return, and when they break it’s because akashi is sobbing a bit hysterically and embarrassingly into nijimura’s arms, the other one flustered and panicked. he gets a hold on akashi’s waist and holds him tight, against his chest where their hearts beat in tandem, treacherously.</p>
<p>after some awkward minutes, nijimura petting the back of his head and leaning back, akashi seems to put his fragile racing thoughts back together and loosens his hold, choking a little. his breaths come hard and short. “sorry, i—nijimura—”</p>
<p>“hey.” nijimura pulls him back. “it’s okay. better to let it out, whatever it is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“does your head hurt?”</p>
<p>“throbbing,” he mutters.</p>
<p>“here, drink.”</p>
<p>nijimura tosses him a bottle of green juice from the fridge but it slips out of his hands and thuds on the kitchen island, where akashi sits trembling. slight, but still trembling. it takes him a moment to get the lid off with sleeve-covered hands but relishes in the moment bitterness hits his throat.</p>
<p>“you wanna talk about it?”</p>
<p>akashi shakes his head, but is resigned to sigh and let his posture slip. he doesn’t look at nijimura. it’s dark in the house, no lights on, just moonlight shining through the windows.</p>
<p>“here, in your parent’s house, seeing your father, i can’t help but wonder—ah, that’s what i’m missing out on.” akashi sniffles. “i find myself thinking—yes, if my mother was still alive, my life probably would have taken a different path entirely. middle school wouldn’t have devolved into what it was. i probably wouldn’t be as inappropriately attached to you as i am—that’s not to say—i’m very happy for your father. i would never want to take that away from you.”</p>
<p>nijimura lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair, bewildered. he takes a seat, across from him, slowly.</p>
<p>“you know, i don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re allowed to feel sad. you <em>can </em>mourn.”</p>
<p>akashi shakes his head, fingers entwined around cold plastic.</p>
<p>“it’s been too long.”</p>
<p>“what you said before was right. my family got the long end of the stick. but we did a lot of <em>pre</em>-grieving too. when we got the diagnosis, it was hard to not assume the worst. assuming it was a lost cause from the start, we <em>did</em> panic, before anything even happened. so the timeline doesn’t matter. there’s no clock. there’s no one telling you not to feel sad.”</p>
<p>akashi stays quiet, maybe unable to say anything, maybe his throat is closed. but nijimura always is willing to try stupid things, so he trails around the island, to where akashi sits, lightly taking his face between his hands. he kisses him like he would kiss anyone, not too light, with enough pressure that akashi could feel it, feel their lips fitting into each other, and for not too long that it becomes something else.</p>
<p>he breaks away, greeted to akashi’s heavy breaths on his skin.</p>
<p>“that’s the first one.”</p>
<p>akashi opens his eyes. gratitude rings inside.</p>
<p>“it seems though your only priority tonight is kissing me.”</p>
<p>“so, inappropriately attached?” nijimura grins, trying to guide akashi’s thoughts away.</p>
<p>akashi makes a noise, and frankly, at this point he can’t get any more red but somehow, he pulls it off.</p>
<p>“i didn’t mean—it’s not dirty—”</p>
<p>nijimura takes it lightly, leaning away.</p>
<p>“so, can i ask you something then? do i remind you of her?”</p>
<p>akashi looks up, biting his lip. he feels like he’s on eggshells again.</p>
<p>“no, it’s not like that. to assume i only like you because—”</p>
<p>“hey, i’m not. i’m just curious because…honestly, i think you just have an inferiority kink.”</p>
<p>akashi blinks.</p>
<p>“and <em>i think</em> we’re done here. i’m going to bed—”</p>
<p>“nooo,” nijimura steps behind akashi, wrapping his arms around his neck from behind, kissing the crown of his head. akashi feels this. “don’t go. i’m just teasing you. i just wanted to tell you it’s okay if you need to talk about her sometimes. don’t hide it. if you’re feeling overwhelmed or need something. you don’t have to hide it. i want to be there for you.”</p>
<p>“okay,” akashi says quietly. “i won’t hide from you.”</p>
<p>“that’s good. actually, though, i think we should go to bed. we still have to wake up at hell hours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p>the shinkansen is a bit of a mystery to nijimura, akashi learns. especially the front cars. sendai station, while not as busy as tokyo, still carries a crowd, even at five in the morning, before the sun even rises; as per usual, the front cars have considerably less people waiting at the platform. nijimura stares unenthusiastically at the ‘reserved’ sign flashing above them.</p>
<p>“how much were these tickets again?”</p>
<p>“i’m not telling you if you are only going to get upset.”</p>
<p>nijimura whines, reluctantly following him onboard, helping a disgruntled akashi push his bags into the overhead compartment.</p>
<p>“why are you so tall.”</p>
<p>“that’s not a question.”</p>
<p>“i’m not asking <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>“who are you asking?”</p>
<p>“the gremlin in my head," he grunts.</p>
<p>“aren’t <em>you</em> the gremlin?”</p>
<p>“are you trying to have a coherent conversation me with?” akashi asks, sitting down. “it’s five am.”</p>
<p>“yeah, yeah,” nijimura sits down next to him, tousling akashi’s already rumpled hair into a fluffier mess. “why do you get the window seat?”</p>
<p>they switch. akashi observes a brief moment of childlike naiveté in nijimura as he settles down, playing with the seat adjustments and staring out the window as the train leaves the station, unabashedly staring at the empty sky as it sails by, sunlight beginning to glow under the horizon. still, within minutes he’s dozing into akashi’s shoulder, which is both endearing and annoying as akashi tries to balance his laptop, attempting to write the essay due in just a few hours.</p>
<p>the train arrives at tokyo station around the time normal people start waking up. stepping into the station, they find themselves swallowed by the morning rush of business men. akashi pulls nijimura forward, enjoying the anonymity of being in a crowd. moving out of the ticket gate, akashi plants him against one of the thick cement pillars, some loud, neon-printed anime poster haloing them—as a guard to oncoming traffic.</p>
<p>“have a good day at school,” akashi teases.</p>
<p>“i’m going to pass out during homeroom,” nijimura answers, to a classic akashi nose wrinkle and condescending glare, this time sprinkled with hesitation.</p>
<p>“hey, come here.”</p>
<p>nijimura pulls him closer by his upper arms, sliding his hands up to pull akashi’s hood up so it shadows his face entirely. he slips his fingers up akashi’s cheeks to firmly hold him, tilting his head up, kissing him. for the first time, akashi's eyes flutter closed and he finds himself up in arms around nijimura, the noisy room disappearing around them.</p>
<p>when they part, nijimura rolls his thumbs over akashi’s cheeks, soaking in the last touch of skin before pulling away wryly.</p>
<p>“i’ll see you.”</p>
<p>“see you.”</p>
<p>akashi waves, hopping back to the gates, swallowed up in black suits and briefcases.</p>
<p>stepping onto the tokaido-sanyo platform to kyoto, akashi tries not to pay any mind to the nostalgia trailing behind him. it’s nice that, for once, it’s not bubbling out of him, but simply keeping trek on a leash made of white wood and madonna lilies, crafted by yours truly while akashi was not looking. he’s thankful for this. the one he had tried to embrace but failed, the one he tried to deny, is still the one helping him step forward, even when he doesn’t win. although, he does feel like he has won something.</p>
<p>it’s when he has his head against the glass window in the train car, watching reel after reel of green mountainside fly by, that he realizes his heart is steady, for the first time in a long time.</p>
<p>there is not one ghost in sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>❀</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>akashi tunes his violin in the grass, wildflowers tickling his ankles, leaned into yukimura’s soft coat. music trickles out of the second floor library window, his father playing the piano accompaniment to <em>romance</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>summer starts and finishes in flashes of gold. he leans his elbows on the fence, white and picketed around the house, watching nijimura climb out of the car.</p>
<p>akashi swings the gate open.</p>
<p>“come around back!”</p>
<p>“what the hell is this?” nijimura spouts.</p>
<p>“this is the house i grew up in.”</p>
<p>“it<em> is</em> a castle, brat.”</p>
<p>akashi grins, takes nijimura’s hand, walking him around the side. a rusted, barely-still orange basketball hoop bolted to the panels of the house, concrete underneath grown over, sleeps in the calm winds brushing them over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hope this fic was in some way enjoyable (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) it's been sitting in pieces in my drafts for years (YEARS!!) so i hope i was able to put it together successfully. even if it's not your cup of tea, a kudo or comment would be appreciated if you made it all the way to the end :3c  my dms are always open to keyboard smash about knb as well @bovwithluv</p></blockquote></div></div>
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